Buffy the Vampire Slayer Where the Vampires Roam
by Renana Aurora Nova
Summary: An idle wish switches the souls of Buffy Summers of Sunnydale & Buffy Summers of Ohio from an alternate dimension. The Buffy we know has to deal with a world where the Hellmouth is open and Willow is undead. The other, bitter Buffy gets put in Sunnydale.


Where the Vampires Roam Renana Unger Hannahs

CHAPTER ONE

There is nothing so perfectly designed to get the blood pumping as the nuclear screams of a furious feline. Nor is anything more heartrending than the plaintive mews of a scared or pain-wracked cat. Buffy, demon slayer extraordinaire, actually jumps as goosebumps mar her flesh in response to a sound bombardment. She winces as a currently beleaguered beast manages to produce both fury and pain sounds at once and add a note of indignation to boot.

She argues to no one, 'I know I'm supposed to be helping mom deliver these flyers. But I'm the Slayer, it's my duty to keep the world safe. When you think about it – cats are a part of the world. They need to be safe, too. Maybe there's a vicious cat-eating demon on the loose.' Having thus convinced herself, Buffy drops the flyers and runs in the direction of the crisis.

Buffy arrives on the scene to see that the vocally over-gifted cat is suffering, indeed. Wet and miserable, it struggles fervently to release itself from low tide sand mulch. Its efforts are made more difficult by the little crab clamping mightily to the end of its tail. Every few seconds, the salt-water soaked feline whips its tail about in an involuntary, pain exponating attempt to dislodge its red tenant. Buffy notices almond eyes narrow balefully at the eight-legged villain. Sharp teeth are about to have seafood for dinner.

With a mental sigh for her Doc Martens, Buffy gallantly steps into the squelch. From the smell, Buffy surmises that there is a backed up sewer line under the sand. To her surprise, the cat stops its lament when it sees her coming toward it. When Buffy scoops to pick it up, it wraps grateful paws on either side of her neck. Gazing woefully into Buffy's eyes, it raises its crab-engarbed tail with a sad cry.

"Aren't you the clever one," Buffy admires as she scans for the right sized tool. After picking up a semi-clean piece of debris, Buffy minces them out of the sand and sewer soup. On dry land, she braces crab and tail on the ground. A now-familiar voice meows a question of impatience. Buffy explains, "I'm not going to kill it. I'm just going to use this," she raises a salt-stained piece of driftwood, "to release the pincer."

Buffy notices the cat glare again at the unrelenting crab. "I can see you think stronger measures are in order. But think about it. If something big and hairy stepped into your territory – you'd be crabby, too." Chuckling at her joke, Buffy frees cat and crustacean with a practiced poke. Unsheathed claws can barely restrain themselves from attacking as eight hard-cased legs scuttle triumphantly back to the ocean. When the red shell disappears from view, the cat settles down and begins to lick and lick and lick its fur. Buffy watches in increasing horror.

With lips twisted from revulsion, Buffy announces, "That can't be good for you." She tears off a piece of her shirt and begins to rub scum from once-silky fur. The cat straightens in surprise as involuntary purrs tumble out from its body. Buffy feels a tiny bit of her constantly held tension relax at the vibrations. "That's quite a motor you've got there," she smiles as she rubs its reverberating sides.

When the fabric becomes dirtier than what it's trying to cleanse, Buffy pauses. Looking down at her partially benuded stomach, Buffy shrugs and rips off some more fabric. When she turns back to the cat, it's gone. Whirling her eyes around, she's just in time to notice a gaily waving tail turn a corner around a distant warehouse. Feeling a little abandoned, Buffy resignedly puts her fresh rag in a pocket. "I guess you're headed home," she comments to herself. Buffy gets to her maximum verticality and retraces steps to the fallen flyers. She raises her head as a question occurs. "How on earth did that cat end up in the ocean?"

Just another of life's unanswered questions.

*

'Tis a dark and balmy night. A slight breeze caresses the evening air. A moon blesses the earth with soft light. It is perfect weather for enticing outdoor strollers, lovers and other demon snacks. Buffy, of course, is dutifully on patrol during this most perilous of times. She has chosen one of the more derelict of cemeteries for her current activity. The sick smell of rotting flowers, compost left uncovered and the sight of crumbled stone create a less than pleasant setting.

Riley is also on duty for patrol that night. A good soldier is always ready, watchful. Riley is utterly oblivious to his unlovely surroundings, because Buffy and Riley are patrolling face terrain, not the cemetery.

Buffy kisses Riley. He does his best not to expire of ecstasy. During a pause for breath, Riley gathers intelligence enough to theorize that Buffy's supernatural ability at kissing has nothing to do with the fact that she's the Slayer.

Buffy exercises mighty willpower, pulling warmed lips from Riley's tongue. She explains this atrocity by looking up at the evening sky, "It's gorgeous out." Buffy gestures expansively toward the town of Sunnydale at large.

Riley gazes at every molecule of Buffy and agrees, "It certainly is." He lays nibbles on her neck.

"I mean people are probably being bitten while we're here making out." Buffy arches her neck to give him better access.

Riley mumbles, "Should I be jealous?"

Buffy clarifies, "People are probably dying while. . ."

Riley sighs a whimpering breath. "I know, I know. I was trying to live in a different reality."

Buffy echoes his sigh. "Aren't we all." Snuggles ferociously into his huge frame momentarily. "I have to go."

"Yeah, me too." Riley returns her wriggles with an ardency that would crush any other than the Slayer. They exchange another long, tender kiss before deciding to pause for breath.

*

Watching the scene, Angel clenches a pained fist. "You left her, remember?" he reminds himself. "For her own good." Angel's jaw tightens as Riley's fingers stray into naughty places. "Well, this is her good. Riley's a decent fighter for a human. He managed to stay alive for the two minutes we fought. Willow said he was a T.A., so he must be smart." Angel forces himself to continue. "Not that I'm a judge of these things, but he's probably good looking, too. He might even have a good sense of humour." Grinds his teeth. "Strong, intelligent, good looking and funny. He's young, too." Angel makes a disgusted face. "He's good for her. He's perfect." Shuffle, shuffle. "Perfect people are so annoying. Coming around, making the rest of us look bad." Snap, snap of a pen in Angel's hand. "He's too perfect." Angel's head comes up. "I'll bet he's not even human." Angel cuts off his segue in exasperation. "Now you're just getting paranoid. . ." His self-castigation ends abruptly as he hears his name spoken.

*

Buffy and Riley finally part ways when it becomes clear that they haven't the discipline to patrol together. Riley jumps the cemetery fence. Buffy takes a step in the opposite direction when the hairs along her spine stand at attention. There's only one thing that creates that effect in her. Human eyes try to pierce the darkness around her.

"Angel?" she ventures.

A moment later, the black envelope of Angel's leather trench coat parts to reveal his approaching form. "Buffy . . ." Angel responds.

A quiet rustle from a different direction sounds as Riley returns to the cemetery. Riley sees the two of them together. Angel thinks, 'So he's not perfect. His timing sucks.'

Riley thinks, "What the hellish dimension is that doing here?' Guarded eyes meet Buffy's. Riley stretches out an entreating hand. His shaky voice asks, "Buffy?"

Buffy thinks, 'This is fun.' Buffy's eyes swivel from current sweet, perfect boyfriend to ex spine-tingle-causing boyfriend. She cringes. Mutters under her breath, "Wish I could switch places with someone right about now."

Wish _granted._

CHAPTER TWO

Buffy discovers that dimension hopping is not full of lights and colours. It's void and it's cold. Later she discovers that re-entry is a female dog. An old, blind, crippled female dog.

Meanwhile, a little astral projection between dimensions is not the fun adventure one might imagine. Actually, as new experiences go, it sucks. Buffy holds an incorporeal hand over her midsection. 'If I had a stomach, it'd spew. I don't know what's worse – feeling this awful, or having no body to relieve how awful I feel. I never knew the ability to vomit could be so comforting.' Buffy pauses her self discourse. 'That's a really weird thought. Am I losing it? Wait a minute, what's going on? Where am I?'

Such philosophical ponderings are obliterated as Buffy's soul enters its dimension destination. Her soul hovers over a scene that her worse nightmares could only envy. Buffy screams soundlessly over and over as rage and grief battle for expression in a place with no voice.

In a warehouse, a ruckus rages. Buffy watches as the vampire who killed her in another dimension, gestures proudly with a wineglass. The Master stands over a blood-drained victim and the undead crowd cheers. Eager glances are shot toward the humans held in a cage in the corner.

Buffy witnesses Angel and a Buffy double (scarred and badly dressed), interrupt the celebration. They destroy several vampires before two familiar figures leap off the stage. When Buffy notices that Xander and Willow are dressed in bad-ass in black leather theme, realization about where she must be, begins to dawn.

The leather-clad Xander rejoices that Angel has given Xander an excuse to annihilate the soul-plagued abomination. Xander had never liked him or liked Willow's fascination with the pseudo-vamp. A few blows against a weakened Angel give Xander the opening he needs. A stake ends the possibility of Angel fulfilling his destiny. The last word on Angel's lips is Buffy's name. As if this weren't horror enough, Buffy floats helpless as she sees her own face stays blank with indifference as her double drives death home into Xander's heart.

Too late to save Angel and Xander, Buffy's soul enters her double's body. With corporeal eyes, she sees Oz and Larry about to shove the vampire infested Willow into a jagged board. Buffy manages to bellow, "Oz, no!" before her stomach comforts her with fierce regurgitation. The comforting goes on and on and on. Maybe being a Slayer means you can puke much more violently before you die of it.

The Master doesn't notice Buffy's exchange with Oz. He's too busy screwing up his face at Buffy's Herculean bile efforts. "That's disgusting," mouths discolored fangs set in a wrinkly pig-like face. The Master delights in imagining the death of a Slayer. Normally, he'd go over there and kill her, maybe take a nibble while he was at it, but currently she was anything but appetizing. And if he went within a five foot radius of her to end her existence, he might slip and land in something unspeakable. One must consider one's image. Once a minion has seen you undone by vomit, the fear is gone. Then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time. The Master's eyes meet Buffy's bloodshot orbs when she pauses for breath.

"Be seeing you, Slayer" he whispers across the room. He vanishes.

Buffy croaks, "I hate it when he does that."

The remaining undead vacate hurriedly when the once-imprisoned humans destroy one vampire after another. Most of the humans leave when the stench of Slayer innards finally becomes unbearable. In the end, only Buffy, Oz, Larry and Willow remain in the huge space.

Oz comments, "Not exactly how I pictured the Slayer defeating the evil undead."

Buffy raises a pale cheek his way. "The Council of Watchers comes up with new battle strategies all the time."

Oz carefully sidles away from the spreading pool of orange-pink viscosity. "She's funny."

Larry adds, "From Giles' description of a Slayer, I never would have thought a sense of humour came with the superpowers. I don't know how to react to that."

"Laugh," deadpans Buffy as she slowly crawls backward from her intestinal juices. "I'm here all week."

"Joking in midst heave," Larry notes. "I'm inspired."

"Giles won't understand," Oz warns. "He doesn't have a sense of humour."

"Says the man who's face is frozen into noncommittal," scoffs Larry.

Their comments distract Buffy briefly from her belly billows. "He can be funny," she claims in Giles' defense. "It's that dry British humour. You can't always tell when he's cracking a joke, because he sounds the same as when he's lecturing. Plus, he's really into irony." Her speech has exhausted her reserves and Buffy leans her forehead on her upper arm.

Larry stops frozen. "You mean all those times Giles inadvertently burned me – he really meant to burn me?"

Oz looks at him. "Man, he got you."

Buffy quirks a weak smile. "I'm afraid so." She gags. She has the strength to be grateful that her hair is tied back as her head hangs from its neck muscles. "Any minute now my super recuperative Slayer powers are going to kick in."

Larry stands with a dumbfounded look on his face as blow after verbal blow replays itself in his memory. "Man, he really got me."

"Any minute now." Buffy repeats.

Willow, silent these many minutes, can't help a comment as she looks Larry up and down. "It doesn't seem to me he'd have to try really hard."

Eyes blazing, Larry jabs a violent finger in her direction. "You know nothing about it!"

Oz nods in agreement. "Your comment just now? Obvious and cheap. A gimme. Giles wouldn't even have bothered."

Willow narrows her eyes. Her hand twitches. Buffy notices and points toward her.

"Tie her up better than that. She can get out of that."

Willow smiles, intrigued. "A connoisseur. Now you're getting me all excited."

"Gag her, too."

"Seems to me you're gagging enough for the both of us." Willow's words are cut off as Oz stuffs her mouth and ties some fabric around it. Willow wriggles for his benefit. Oz gives a powerful tug on her ropes, tightening them. Willow's eyes smile and promise delicious retribution. Oz forces himself to keep a level head in the face of such perfectly filled out leather.

Abruptly, finally, the spasms wracking Buffy's body cease. When the pain stops, Buffy's pain really starts, because she has time to remember. Recent deaths burn their imagery on her mind. "Angel," whispers Buffy, "Xander." On her hands and knees, Buffy weeps.

"Okay," worries Larry. "This is very disturbing." Glances at Oz, pointing to Buffy. "Are Slayers allowed to cry? Because . . ."

"Shut up, Larry." Oz commands.

Larry twitches, Oz holds his jaw tight, Willow watches with pleasure as they wait for the Slayer to cry the pain away.

Eventually, Buffy takes a deep, shuddery breath. "All right." She stands on octopus-boned legs. "Take me to Giles."

CHAPTER THREE

Oz and Larry escort Buffy and Willow to Giles' residence. Buffy walks into a room almost identical to Giles' setup at her former Sunnydale high school library. The surreal factor is that this doppelganger library is not located in the high school - it's in the mansion where Angel lived before he moved to L.A. Buffy shivers and mumbles, "Doo, doo, doo, doo, you are now entering . . ."

Larry looks around, commenting, "Giles isn't here, he's probably in his den."

*

Giles is frustrated. He rifles through text after text. Destroying Anyanka's power center seems to have had no effect. Well, other than a disconnected, dizzy feeling he usually associates with cold medicine. Granted, the she-demon had disappeared, but everything else remains the same.

Buffy enters the room to see Giles with his think-face on.

"Boo!" she chirps.

Giles leaps and shrieks, sending books and thaumergetic implements everywhere. Raising one hand to a fibrillating chest, he shouts, "Don't do that!"

Turning to share the fun moment with the others, Buffy winces to see that only Willow seems amused. Larry and Oz stare at her in disbelief. Buffy suppresses a sheepish expression, making herself busy by moving to Willow's side to remove the gag. When Buffy turns around, Giles is obsessively cleaning his glasses.

"Giles," sighs Buffy besottedly.

Giles glances up with beginnings of worry in his voice. "Buffy?"

Buffy notes at last the constant tension living in the body language of the humans present, even Oz. Oz isn't slouched, or leaning or hanging out. He is rigid, his eyes scanning the room's openings periodically. Countless weapons lay around the room like decorator pillows. Buffy shudders with sympathy for this world. They were living like hunted rabbits. She faces Willow. "I'm guessing this is where you keep people in chains and can ride them like ponies."

Willow gives Buffy a long, hard look. "You're her, aren't you? That other Buffy."

Giles gropes surreptitiously with one hand to find a weapon under the table.

Larry perks up. "You mean we have a knock-off? That would explain the puking." Nods self-righteously. "And the crying."

Willow ignores him. "You must have been sucked back here with me. I'd wondered why you stopped him from staking me." Willow bows mockingly and sweeps back an open arm. "Welcome to my world."

Giles' grasp firms on a crossbow. He keeps it hidden while casually trying to square his body for a good shot at 'other-Buffy'.

"Okay, one – that's not exactly how it happened. There was no sucking involved, Miss Freudian Slip. And two," Buffy gestures down at her ensemble, "I do _not _dress like this."

Willow nods in sad agreement. "You _are_ dressed in poor taste. Cheap, colorless." Rakes her gaze down Buffy once more. "Saggy."

Buffy chin comes up. "Cheap!" Points to Willow's finely displayed assets. "Look who's talking?"

"Girls," Giles interrupts with innocent mien, "What does she mean, 'That other Buffy'?" He readies his trigger finger.

Buffy answers with flippant disregard, pausing to glare indignantly at Willow, "It's this alternate reality thing. Anya lost her necklace here . . ."

"Anyanka?" Giles interrupts.

". . . or something back when she was a vengeance demon." Buffy continues smoothly. "When she did a spell to try to recover it – Vampire Willow came across instead. We sent Willow back to her own reality as you see . . ."

Giles interrupts again. "Vengeance demons' power is in the wish." He ruminates for a minute. "Cordelia said something about her wish going wrong. You were supposed to come to Sunnydale. Everything went wrong because you weren't here. From her babbling, I think she wished you'd never come into her life or something similar."

"Me!" Buffy yelps. "Her wish was about me? When did Xander cheating on her become my fault?"

Larry's eyebrows leap into his hairline. "Cordelia and Xander?! Okay, I knew Xander before he undied and," he pauses, at a loss for words, "the mind, well, the mind just boggles. He was pre-undead, right?" Buffy nods. Larry's eyes bug out. "Wait! He _cheated_ on Cordelia? With who?"

Giles puts the weapon on the table, tries in vain to interrupt the gossip session. "Maybe we could . . ."

Buffy glances involuntarily at Willow. Larry puts it together.

"With Rosenburg!" Larry scoffs. "I knew her pre-undead, too. She was pre-undead, right?"

Giles coughs, trying to get everyone's attention.

Larry shakes his head. "Man, what was Harris thinking?" His eyes are drawn to Willow, his gaze instinctively scans her figure. "Although . . ."

Willow rolls dark eyes. "Keep dreaming, bloodbag."

Giles slaps the table, bouncing the crossbow. "Perhaps it is possible that there are more pressing issues at hand!" The erroneously ejaculated arrow hurtles from the crossbow toward Willow's chest.

Buffy snatches it from the air. "Be careful with that thing!"

Oz allows, "Someone could lose an eye."

"Or a best friend," adds Buffy in anxious tones.

"A terrible loss, I'm sure," interjects Giles. "Back to the point I made about Cordelia eons ago . . ."

"I told you," whispers Buffy to Larry. "Humour dry as a hundred year old bone."

"I'm starting to recognize his work, now." Larry whispers back.

Giles continues, "You never came to Sunnydale in this reality. There was no one to stop the vampires from killing Xander and Willow. There was no one to fight the demons coming out of the Hellmouth.

Buffy tries to correct his conclusion, "Um, Giles."

Giles ignores her quiet interjection. "But what I don't understand is why this reality continues to exist. It should have ceased to be as soon as I crushed Anyanka's power center." Giles voice halts as Buffy moues.

"What?"

Buffy pulls a nervous cheek muscle to the side. "Um, maybe this dimension is wish sensitive." Nods in exaggerated seriousness. "You know, like an allergy or something."

Dead, cold eyes bullet into Buffy's. Giles states, "You made a wish."

"It was an accident," Buffy squeaks.

"You sentence us to hell, and your explanation is 'oops'!" Giles starts to circle around the table toward Buffy. "Did you learn nothing from what happened here!? Why would you . . ."

Buffy carefully keeps the full expanse of the table between them. "It was all very vagueness where I come from! Anya wasn't real forthcoming with the details. Something about client-demon privileges." Continues to back away from stalking Giles. "I didn't know a little mumbled, 'I wish I could switch places with someone' would reactivate _Apocalypse World_ here."

Giles stops. "It wasn't a vengeance wish?"

Buffy raises her hand. "No."

Giles tilts his head, thinking it out. "That's odd."

"Like I said. Wish allergy or whatever."

"So after your wish," Giles concludes, "you were switched with your double from this world." He pauses as a thought occurs. "Assuming you haven't wished your reality out of existence altogether."

Buffy shoots him a horrified look.

Giles relents, "Though I think that scenario highly unlikely."

"They can't be gone," Buffy denies, "Xander . . ."

Willow, bored insensate, interrupts dreamily in the wake of Xander's name, "Xander was my Sire. Before he made me he said that I was his best friend in life. That I would be his best friend in death, too."

Buffy holds out hands of sorrow. "Oh Will, I'm so sorry."

They all turn various expressions of quizzicality Buffy's way.

Willow looks out the corners of her eyes. "There is something seriously wrong with you."

Larry and Oz make eye contact, nod and raise their hands.

Buffy displays a mona lisa smile . "I get that a lot." She shrugs it off and takes in her surroundings, gesturing to the world outside. "No offense, but I think my double got the better end of the cow here."

Giles, Larry and Oz do their best to look offended. Willow just rolls her eyes.

Giles pushes up his glasses and leans toward Buffy. "Then I guess in the future you won't go about making idle wishes, will you?"

Buffy swivels neck muscles in agreement. "No Giles."

"And another thing . . ."

Willow tunes out the lecture as memories swallow her consciousness. Xander . . .

CHAPTER FOUR

Limbs toss across the bed in REM abandon when a banging on her door awakens Willow with a pounding heart. Stumbling out of bed, she trips on overlong kitten print pajamas. Getting to sleep-numb feet, Willow steps fearfully over to the shutters and peers between them. Her face goes filament bright when she sees Xander's familiar form. Willow unlocks and opens the door.

"Xander!" Willow hugs him enthusiastically. "I was so worried when you weren't in school Friday . . ."

Xander gazes soulfully at her, promises in his eyes. "Willow, can we talk?"

Confused but happy, Willow steps inside. "Sure, come in." She adds, "We'll have to talk quietly. You know mom doesn't like it when you come by late on a school night."

Xander pads soundlessly into the room. He says throatily, "I can be quiet. Can you be quiet?"

Willow wrinkles her brow. "What?"

"Willow," Xander slides his fingertips along her arm, underneath her pajama sleeve. "We've known each other all our lives." He invades her personal space, stroking her inner arm. Gooseflesh follows in the wake of his touch. New sensations flood Willow's senses. Shivers echo in her voice as Willow agrees.

"Yes." Cautious Willow is supplanted by Deliriously Happy Willow in her head. DH Willow squealing, 'He likes me!' in frantic, pathetic repetition.

"I want to know you better." Xander leans his dark head into Willow's and melts their mouths together for long moments. "I want to know you forever." Fingers smooth and grip bared flesh.

"Um," Willow manages before Xander sucks her lower lip into his mouth.

"I want you to be my first," he whispers intimately.

Willow's voice shakes, "Your first . . ."

"My first everything." Xander's hands and mouth set Willow's simmering blood to a boil.

Willow gasps in half protest, "This is going a little fast."

Xander lifts her body like a feather pillow and lays her on her bed. "You want slow? I can be slow." An incremental melding of body molecules steals Willow's breath to dizziness.

Dazed by his actions and her own feelings, Willow is oblivious to his menace. He kisses her mouth, her face over and over. Xander tilts her head to the side. Willow is drugged with joy and pleasure. Her eyes are closed when Xander locks her body to his with hard arms. She doesn't see his face change.

"I don't want even death to part us." Xander whispers in her soft ear.

Incisors glisten as Xander draws his tongue over her bared neck. "My best friend in life. My best friend in death." Fangs penetrate tender skin.

Willow whimpers and struggles, terror choking her voice from her throat. An infinite moment later, Xander wrenches red teeth from her neck, instinct warring with discipline. The Master's smug words replay in Xander's head.

*

"New vampires never become Sires. The hunger is too strong to control the first time. But by all means, visit your little lover. Make her your first meal. It'll make a true killer out of you."

Xander is about to set him set him straight on the lover issue, when he hesitates. The Master doesn't strike him as a demon who can take correction.

The Master sees doubt in Xander's face and expands, "In fact I insist that you go to her. You never forget your first kill. It should be someone worth remembering."

*

"I will be more than a lapdog," Xander vows even as Willow's tempting jugular pulses at him. He parts the skin on his neck with a fingernail and forces Willow's slack lips to the wound.

"Ssh, don't be afraid," he murmurs even as he draws sustenance from her terror, loving it, needing it. "I'm gonna make it all better."

Willow squirms away from the dark blood for a few futile seconds. Her feet try to kick, but tangle in the blankets. In suppressing her struggle, Xander leans on a squeaky bear on the bed. Squeak! He jumps. Laughter is surprised from him. "Only you, Will," he smiles. "Only you could bring laughter to death."

Willow's trembling lips brush the wound. As her heartbeat fades, Xander's blood drips onto Willow's tongue. She swallows. Soon, she is grabbing Xander's hair to hold his head to her mouth and sucking eagerly at his neck. Joy roars through Xander's veins. Lips peel back from fangs as Xander throws back his head in ecstasy. "Aahh!" erupts incoherently from his throat.

Willow dies.

*

The grave is fresh. Rich brown dirt hangs loosely over the coffin. Xander eagerly awaits the coming of his first child. His throat clenches as he senses a telepathic thread reverberate inside him. The inner connection locks in place as Willow awakens. Anticipation grows as a fist shoots out of the soft dirt. Willow doesn't so much climb out of her grave as levitate. She wears a sweet pink sundress. It does not go at all well with the yellow of her eyes.

Hunger rides Willow like a cowboy, spurring her to a greater frenzy. Fangs sparkle with delight when she spies Xander.

"Hello, lover," Willow purrs.

Xander's eyes engolden. "Not yet," he growls. He drags her down to the dirt while Willow laughs wickedly. They couple on her grave.

Later, Xander idly flips away some tattered remains of a pink sundress. "Dinner and a movie?" he inquires.

Skin stretches impossibly taut over misshapen forehead bones. Willow arches an unbruising neck and incisors gleam with eager agreement. "Thought you'd never ask."

CHAPTER FIVE

While Willow reminisces, Giles has finished his lecture. When she's sure that he's spoken his last admonitory word, Buffy shakes her head in bemusement as she takes in the setup of books and the book cage in the mansion.

"What's wrong?" asks Giles.

Buffy smiles fondly at him. "You." Points vaguely in the direction of his personal library. " A place for everything and everything in its place." Pauses, pushing up her lower lip. "Suddenly wondering if that's a British saying." Shrugs it off. Points again to the stacks of books, catalogued and alphabetized. "You organize in hell. It's almost comforting. Or would be if it wasn't so eerie. Your double had things set up this exact same way in the library at the Sunnydale High School."

Giles stares at her, shocked. "He had all his books at the school?" Buffy nods. "His private collection in the school library?" Buffy nods. "Where any old student could come along and check out information on witch craft and demon raising?"

Larry pipes up, "Say it ain't so."

Buffy nods. "Yep. But nobody really visited the library much."

Giles huffs. "And who can blame them considering the Hellmouth energy. Still, I think it's rather reckless of him . . ." A horrifying thought occurs to Giles. "Good Lord, the Hellmouth. His entire collection must have been destroyed when the Hellmouth opened!"

Buffy forestalls his panicked imaginings. "You're still missing a page in the book here. The Hellmouth never completely opened on my world. After the Master rose, I killed him and it sealed back up."

"It sealed back up?" Giles sits down roughly in a nearby chair. "That is information I would have died to possess these last two years. If I'd known killing him could seal the Hellmouth . . ." Trails off. Straightens, chin coming up. "We should send someone to see if it's sealed now. . ."

Buffy looks everywhere but in his direction. Giles purses his lips and eyes go grim. "I take it that you did _not_ kill the Master."

Buffy's chin firms in defensive preparation. "Well, I was distracted. Angel and Xander dying before my eyes, Willow about to get dusted, people screaming, vamps feeding." Adds under her breath, "Not to mention the excessive vomiting." Continues. "By the time I got around to him, he'd decided to say something pithy and vanish."

Larry adds helpfully, "Plus, there was the puking."

Giles inquires, "Angel?"

Willow, who's been listening intently, leans back on the wall, oblivious of her tied wrists. After all, vampires don't have circulation. She hums happily to herself with a sighing smile and murmurs, "Puppy."

Buffy throws her a weirded look, then answers Giles. "Another friend of mine in my world. Anyway, the Master is still around, but I needed a moment to collect myself. I'd just lost my whole world and most of the people I love . . ."

Giles interrupts, "Wait. Most? You believe someone came with you?"

"Well, no," concedes Buffy, "But you're here. And Willow," grimaces, "sort of." brightens "and Oz."

Oz blinks. "You love me?"

Larry interjects impatiently, "Hey, what about me?"

Buffy squeezes him a half smile. "Sorry Larry, we were just acquaintances."

"Damn!" exclaims Larry, striking a fist downward.

"Larry, aren't you . . ." begins Buffy before tact ends the question. Wobbles her head. "Never mind."

"Your talk of personal attachments worries me," starts Giles.

"And makes me nauseous," adds Willow.

Giles continues, "_We're_ not the people you know. And besides there are greater issues at hand."

"You mean I'm not the center of the universe? But I'm the Chosen. In my reality you always said . . ."

Giles barks, "I would never . . ." stops as he catches her grin. "Very funny! But I don't hear the 40% of the world's population still left, laughing."

Aghast, Buffy mews, "40%! You mean everyone else is . . ." She quiets, unable to finish.

Giles softens. "Yes. Dead." Leans toward her. "That's why it's so vitally important to kill the Master _now_ while there's still a chance that after the Hellmouth is sealed we can battle the demons here on earth. Every day more come through. In another year humanity will be an endangered species. You close the Hellmouth now and it's still possible that we can take back the world. A chance for humans to live in freedom," glances at Willow, "instead of chains."

A plan formulates when Giles quotes Willow, but something in his words distracts Buffy. "You said two years ago. A lot longer than that's passed since I killed the Master in my dimension."

"Different dimensions keep different time," explains Giles.

"Oh yeah, I actually knew that." Buffy acknowledges. "I've done a little alternate world hopping myself. Time does dance to its own dimension."

Oz frowns, "You mean this isn't your first time?" pauses, "Huh, no cliché intended."

Buffy allows, "Slayers attract all kinds of weird." She flutters her hand. "Anyway, about the Master," All eyes are on Buffy as she draws herself up and announces proudly, "I have a plan."

Giles quirks an eyebrow, "It doesn't by any chance involve charging in with a pointy stick, does it?"

"What?" asks Buffy, confused.

"That was your double's plan," Giles informs her. Tilts his head, "I thought it rather, er . . ." Giles tries to find a diplomatic way to denigrate her double.

Buffy rescues him. "Low probability in the Master-death outcome column?"

"Er, yes."

Buffy perks up. "Actually, my plan is a lot more involved." She picks up a stake laying on the table and wobbles it haphazardly in the air. "And crafty! Sneaky, even!"

Doubt begins to colour Giles' expression.

Larry bobs his head enthusiastically. "Sneaky is good."

"Involved plans tend to break down, Buffy," Giles cautions. "Maybe your double had a good reason to prefer the direct approach."

"Tried that," states Buffy, "Died."

Oz forces eyeballs to focus on Buffy. "You died."

"Yep."

Oz turns to Giles, "Let's go with plan B."

Giles allows a shaky smile. "Right then."

Larry gazes at the rest of the group one by one. Shakes his head at them. "Okay, I'm gonna ask." He peers most carefully at Buffy. "You don't look dead." Shifts eyes up to meet hers. "Are you dead?" Larry reaches with pointy finger.

Buffy grabs his hand before he can poke her. "I'm not dead! Xander brought me back before I unlocked the mysteries at the end of the tunnel. He CPR'ed me."

"Lucky bastard," mutters Larry.

"Xander!" Giles exclaims. "How on earth did a civilian get involved in a battle with vampires?" He doesn't wait for her answer. "Was this during the Harvest?"

"Xander is one of my best friends. He hates it when his friends die." She frowns and adds, "Plus, there was no Harvest. I killed the Vessel and my world was Harvest-free."

"Then why did your Hellmouth open at all?" queries Giles.

"The Master didn't just throw up his claws and go 'oh well, now I'm stuck here forever'. Guess he's a type "A" personality." Buffy explains with visual aid hand gestures.

Willow says with a half-smile of pride, "If at first you don't succeed. . ."

Oz adds, "Guess he was a glass half full kind of guy."

Buffy pouts, "Demon optimism. Sickening. There's something oxymoronically wrong with evil being optimistic."

Giles gathers them back to the original conversation. "I can't say I disagree. But about your plan."

Buffy nods, "Yes, back to the business at hand." She faces Giles, "Through your Council contacts- oh, ah and try the internet also, Jenny's a big cyber buff- find Jenny Calendar." Buffy bites her bottom lip. "Or maybe Janna Cala-something and tell them we need her in Sunnydale ASAP." Buffy turns next to Willow. Buffy's plans for Willow are less about esoteric internet research and more about guinea pig experimentation. Tears of remorse well in the corners of Buffy's eyes. "I'm sorry Willow, so sorry. But I need you to save the world. I need you on my side."

Willow tucks her chin in. "Yeah, that's likely."

Giles meanwhile flutters flustered hands. "The internet, but I . . ."

Oz interrupts, "I'll do the internet."

Buffy beams as her Master-plan goes tickety-boo. "Great!"

*

The Master moves his gaze out among his disciples. A third of them are gone after the battle at the warehouse. "The Slayer," begins his oration, "nice blood if you can get it." A drop in tone freezes shuffling, muttering vampires, "and you will get it."

Eyes rake the face of each listener. "Because if you don't try, I will personally eviscerate your lower extremities and leave you out for the sun to taste." He smiles with unbrushed teeth and draws his hands to his sides, stating in reasonable tones, "If you have any questions or concerns about our current goal, you can see me after the meeting. I'll be happy to explain my point." The Master holds up a sharp wooden object.

CHAPTER SIX

There's a knock on the mansion door. Giles answers the door with a distracted frown, opening it with his face half-buried in an enthralling Watcher's treatise. He glances up at the visitor. The vision at his doorstep causes Giles' hidden abdominal muscles to ripple and his buttocks to tighten involuntarily. The book drops as words bottleneck at his throat, creating no known earthly language.

"I'm here to see the Slayer," the dark beauty announces.

Paranoia rescues Giles' linguistic abilities. "And you are?"

Her smile lights up the British recipient, "I'm Jenny Calendar."

Giles offers a goofy grin in return. "Great! I mean, good. That you're here. Well done."

Jenny sends Giles a little slinky body language to indicate her approval of his incoherent attraction. "Not yet," she contradicts, leaning into his personal space slightly.

Giles, too insecure to believe this paragon is flirting with him, tries desperately to keep his eyes on her face, croaking, "What?"

Jenny barely brushes Giles body as she moves past him into the mansion. She turns dark tilted eyes his way, "I haven't done anything, yet," she answers, playing up the double entendre. Jenny offers him another smile, "Does the Slayer still need me?" Steps back toward the door. "Or should I just go?"

"No!" protests Giles. "I – we –she still needs you!" He blocks her way to the exit.

Jenny grins in satisfaction. Life is too short for a long courting process these days. And she likes what she sees. And obviously, his heels are way over his head.

"I like my coffee sweet and strong," Jenny announces out of the blue. Raises midnight eyes to Giles' face. "I see that you're sweet." She hesitantly places a hand on his upper arm. "Are you strong?"

Giles may be insecure, but slow he is not. Trapping her hand with his bicep, Giles draws Jenny to him for a perfect fit. "In a past life," he whispers along a shivering neck, "I was a stevedore."

Jenny's 'Oh my' is melted from her lips by Giles' kiss. The walls are alive with the sound of . . .

"Good grief!" Buffy blusters when she walks in and sees them in the foyer. "You two just met!"

Giles and Jenny dismiss her completely. Ears have much more important functions than to hear with.

Buffy whips back around, face drawn tight with horror, "I'll be in the library with the others. I'll wait for you there." She dashes from the room.

Giles eases back, clears his throat, "Yes, world in peril."

Tears run down her smiling cheeks, "My heart's in peril."

Giles' eyes dawn with wonder. Arms tighten about Jenny's form as his lips whisper, "'nough said," before claiming hers.

"Wait."

"Wait?" incredulously.

"What's your name?"

*

Giles and Jenny's rumpled forms enter the library.

"So," Jenny inquires, quoting the internet message for her, "How can I help 'demolish the demonic deviants from our bedeviled dimension'?" Her eyes measure Buffy's size and she jumps off-topic unconcernedly. "I thought you'd be bigger."

Buffy ignores the oft-repeated observation, staring at Oz. "That was rather multi-syllabic of you," she observes.

Oz shrugs, "I was feeling expansive."

Jenny stands with an expectant expression beginning to strain on her face. "Well?"

Buffy swings an intense countenance her way. "Miss Calendar, I need you to do a spell."

*

Giles looks at the first ingredient on the list with chagrin. "Eye of newt? Is this a joke?"

"Uh-uh," answers Jenny with a small smile at his pursed face, "Give me some of that newt's eye, baby."

Giles searches through the labeled baggies, saying dryly, "What every man longs to hear from his beloved."

Jenny flashes him a fever inducing gaze. "Don't worry, Rupert. I have a multitude of exotic things I can say to make the trauma of this moment go away. No magic required."

Giles swallows heavily. "Dear Lord."

"Come on, big boy," she adds, "The sooner we finish with this spell, the sooner we can . . ." Jenny tilts her head to the side and smiles wickedly.

Giles frantically reads the next item on the list.

*

Jenny sags as magic pours through her with the completion of her chant. Everyone but Giles gazes at the trussed-up Willow. Giles hands Jenny much-needed libation.

Jenny groans, "Thanks."

Impossible light shines in Willow's eyes.

*

Willow's memories flicker and fade as her soul meets her murderer. Memories...

The vampires clap and holler as Xander enters the fold of the fanged with Willow on his arm.

The Master comments to Luc. "You see. I told you he'd make me proud." The Master gestures to the bud of his asexual reproduction. "Demons! Humans," he adds, nodding to those cowering in cages. "For the first time in recorded history - a vampire bestows the dark gift on his first meal." Hoots and whistles blast the air.

Willow whispers in an aside to Xander, "Your first . . ."

"My first everything," he reminds her softly.

Later, Xander comments to the Master, "I thought you didn't believe I could do it."

"What better way to ensure your success than to tell you it couldn't be done. I made you, Alexander, I know you." The Master silences the crowd with an upraised palm.

Xander's shoulders slump a little.

The Master pats Willow's head. "My grandchild!" he roars, "A miracle of willpower!"

Xander straightens proudly as the vampires roar approval.

"Master," bows Willow before the mutant figure, "You are magnificent."

"She knows me," observes the Master in awe. He looks at Xander. "You managed to transfer our ancestral memories to her as well? Now I _am_ surprised."

Xander's eyes are all for Willow. "If something's not perfect," notes Xander, gazing at perfection, "What's the point?"

"I've spawned an idealist!" crows the Master smugly to Luc. "However did I manage to do that?"

*

Buffy keeps anxious orbs on the chained Willow. "Willow, are you okay?"

Willow furrows a bewildered brow, "I'm – I'm . . . do I know you?" In trying to move her arms, the chains encasing her limbs register. "What's going on here?" Willow's gaze drops to her clothes. "Am I going to be some kind of ritual sacrifice or something?"

Oz murmurs to Buffy, "She's really kind of sweet, isn't she?"

"You've no idea," she agrees.

Willow continues, "Because I'm pretty sure sacrificial virgins are engarbed in flowing white gowns of some kind." Nods emphatically. "Yes, flesh-covering flowing white gowns," frowns, "Hey, which one of you dressed me in this?" perplexed pout, "Why aren't I afraid?" notices Giles, "Aren't you the new librarian?"

Giles sends a worried glance to Buffy. "She doesn't remember."

Buffy answers sadly, "She will."

"I'm hanging right here, people. I'm not d . . ." memories begin to download from the vampire's persona. "Unh!" Willow's head snaps back with an audible crack. "Xander! Xander's dead." Willow cries. "Oh." Another mental punch jerks Willow's head abruptly. "I'm dead." Then, there are no words, for as her recent past unfolds, Willow can only shudder and heave with one shock after another. Whimpers leak from a clenched mouth.

After ten minutes of this, Oz is perturbed enough to ask, "What did you do to her?"

Buffy responds in mortuary whisper, "We gave her back her soul."

Willow croaks, "You should have killed me." Her head sags limply to the side. "Please kill me." Epileptic contractions wrack her body as she keeps repeating, "Please kill me."

Soon everyone but Buffy is so discomforted, they shuffle out, haunted by her unceasing plea.

When Willow pauses, Buffy touches her temple. "I'm sorry, Willow. I had to. The world needs you. I need you. Me most of all."

Willow lifts disbelieving eyes to meet Buffy's. "They need an insane, bloodsucking killer capable of bench pressing a car?" She waves an arm in a lateral gesture. "Take your pick. There are plenty to chose from who aren't me." Willow closes shell-shocked eyelids. "I'm not _her,_ you know. I can never be her."

"I know." Buffy agrees, "But you can be you. And that's all that matters. In fact, you can help in ways your sunny self never could."

Willow shakes her head at Buffy's naiveté. "The vampire is still inside me. And you know what? You look mighty tasty." frowns, "Well, except that image of you throwing up, pink chunks spewing? – It's kind of burned eternally in my brain." Looks at Buffy with narrowed eyes. "And I do mean eternally. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Enough with the imagery!" Buffy protests with her hand on her stomach. "Like I need to relive that moment of infamy."

"Moment? More like a lengthy stay!" An almost-smile quivers at the corner of Willow's mouth before despair kills it. "You don't understand. You think now that you've given me a conscience or whatever . . ."

"Your soul," Buffy corrects.

"My soul," Willow accedes. "You think having my soul back makes me a good person? I'm still a demon. It's not just the demon memories living here. The demon and I both live here. I don't just hate what I've done, what I've become. I love it, too."

Buffy stills, "And that's the worst part, isn't it?"

Willow starts bashing her head against the wall behind her. "Yes, yes. What happens when the demon is in control?" Thump. Thump. Thump. "When I can't stop it?"

Buffy cradles her hand at the back of Willow's newly bleeding head. "For the rest of your days, you walk the razor's edge. The only time it's in control – is when you let it be. If there's one thing I _do_ know about your soul, it's that you are more capable of discipline than anyone else I know."

"Yeah," Willow agrees, "Just look at my outfit."

They laugh the way you hear it at a funeral. Quick, raw and pure. A pressure relief.

Willow sighs, "I still need to eat, you know."

Buffy brightens, "I have just the thing." She grabs a glass from the table, brimming with red liquid. Buffy raises it to Willow's lips. Willow grimaces as Buffy helps her toss it back.

"Gack!" Willow twists her face up. "What is that?!"

"Pig's blood," Buffy states without mercy, "You get used to it."

Willow remembers her first taste of human blood. Hot, living blood, spiced with emotion. She looks soulfully at the red-stained glass in Buffy's hand. "Please kill me," she whimpers.

Her first taste. . .

CHAPTER SEVEN

Willow and Xander prowl the streets, searching for her first plasma donor. Owen has the misfortune of crossing their path at the wrong time. Or rather, he stops dead at the sight of a gloriously nude Willow, giving the partners time to create a path-crossing. However, Owen sees only Willow. He is biologically incapable of noticing the shadowy Xander beside her.

Willow's voracious hunger has put her in perma-vamp face. She expects him to run and smiles with much fanginess when Owen appears to be frozen with fear. As she nears him, Willow inhales, but it is not his fear she breathes in. Her mind pauses, disconcerted, but starvation carries her casual dress shoes forward. Willow notices that he lowers his gaze at her approach. A proper attitude for an inferior, but still Owen exudes no fear. She hesitates no longer at his atypical behavior, she goes for his jugular.

Owen feels the agony of teeth ripping into his neck, but the pain seems far away. All he can think about is Willow's naked body next to his. As the rhythmic sound of her swallowing fill his ears like a heartbeat, Owen realizes that he's dying. Like a light going on, scenes from his life flash before his eyes. Owen recognizes that his entire existence has culminated in this moment. His fascination with death, with the morbid had coloured his life's outlook for a decade. And here he was, dying at the hands, or rather the teeth, of a beautiful, naked vampiress. Owen falls in love. "Please," he breathes, "Kiss me."

Willow is so taken aback by his request that she unlocks her jaw from Owen's neck. Her vampire visage melts away in confusion. Owen turns his head to greet her blood-red lips. He spends his last few seconds of life clinging to her mouth with loving lips, running gentle hands over her body. Owen's last heartbeats clothe Willow in liquid crimson as he dies in the arms of his beloved.

Xander steps forward gingerly. "Okay, I'm a vampire and that was way too surreal for me."

Willow pouts, "He wasn't afraid of me." She gazes up at Xander with sweet, dewy eyes. "Don't I have a scary demon face?"

Xander smiles. "Hate to break it to you, Will. He wasn't exactly looking at your face."

"What?" Willow finally notices her nudity. She defends herself, "Well, I was very hungry."

Xander smirks, "Being bitten in the neck by an attractive young naked woman is not exactly the stuff of nightmares for the teenage male. Ooo, you might want to try it on a female next time, they're more likely to find a yellow-eyed naked woman coming to bite them terrifying."

Willow ponders that for a moment. "I'd like to think that I'm an equal opportunity predator." Turns to Xander hopefully, "You don't think he might just be an aberration? That other men would run screaming from me in terror, smelling edible?"

Xander just returns a sarcastic raised eyebrow.

Willow sighs, "Clothes, then."

"Clothes," Xander agrees.

They begin walking and Willow adds, "I do want to be scary, but his desire made his blood tasty. Why not be greedy? I want it all."

Xander stops and licks some of Owen's blood from Willow's shoulder. "Mmm, that is good." He smiles in anticipation. "I know just the place."

*

Buffy leans over and undoes Willow's chains.

Willow stares down at her freed wrists. "You didn't need a key? They come undone by themselves?"

Buffy grins, "Trick chains. Giles has them because of his extreme paranoia. Though he's fond of irony, being tortured bound by his own chains somehow didn't appeal to him."

Willow shrugs, "Makes sense to me."

Buffy points an eyebrow at Willow's apparel. "It would."

Willow puckers thoughtful lips. "How'd you know about them? I mean, you've been here three or so days and already the two of you are discussing chain preferences?" Willow pauses slowly. "Hmm. How – enlightening."

Buffy deliberately ignores the innuendo. "Giles is as Giles does," she explains briskly. "He's the same in both realities. That's how I know about the chains."

"So you skipped the preliminaries and got right to it. Hey! I understand. You mortals aren't getting any younger," Willow baits.

Eavesdropping outside the door, Oz nudges Larry. "They're arguing again, that's got to be a good sign."

Larry nods emphatic agreement, "Yeah, anything's better than the crying and weeping and 'please kill me'."

Buffy can't help a grin at Willow's chain-jerking. "That was such a Xander thing to say."

Vacuum silence. In silent apology, Buffy hugs Willow to her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Will."

They weep.

Larry's cheeks drop in dismay, "Damn. Now they're _both_ crying."

Willow cracks, "I miss Xander. I miss him so much. From the moment he turned me, we were inseparable. I'm so alone. Please let me die."

Larry winces, "There she goes again."

Buffy squeezed Willow with human-crushing strength. "I'm here, Willow. I'm here. I miss him, too. But we still have each other. You're not alone. Don't give up." Buffy starts to sob, "I need someone to tell my funny Xander stories to." Her sobs quiet as she remembers Xander's escapades. "Like the time I caught him sneaking into the girl's locker room. He tried to tell me he thought one of them was a vampire, so he was just checking the mirrors to make sure all the naked girls had '. . . erections, I mean reflections! reflections . . .'"

Willow has to chuckle. Xander, even as a cool as a cucumber vampire, had still occasionally been subject to foot-in-mouth disease. "When we were eight, somebody laughed at the dress my mom made me wear. Xander called him a bananahead. The guy beat him up like he was one of those blowup punching bags. Through it all Xander kept calling him names like applehead and pearhead."

Buffy laughs so hard she clasps arms over sore stomach muscles.

Willow continues, "He just wouldn't stop. The guy kept hitting him and Xander kept calling him names until a teacher broke it up. Xander and I secretly called that guy fruithead for years after that." Willow's grin sags. "He always figured that becoming a vamp was the best thing that ever happened to him. He wasn't a loser anymore. He was someone that mattered."

Buffy lays a comforting hand on Willow's arm. "Xander didn't have to become a vamp to do that. When I confronted the Master the first time, he drained me unconscious and dropped me in a pool to drown. I was headed for that white light when Xander started CPR. It didn't work for a long time, but he just wouldn't give up."

Willow nods knowingly, "Stubborn ass."

Behind the cracked open door, Larry sighs dreamily, "She's nice. She's cool. A Slayer – I think I'm in love."

Oz says dryly, "Last week you were in love with me."

Larry nods thoughtfully, "Well, you do have that animal magnetism going for you."

Oz deadpans, "I told you – I don't want to be loved just for my charisma."

Buffy continues, "Xander resurrected me. Xander brought me back from the dead. The second round in the Master vs. Slayer match went to me and I killed him. Then the Hellmouth sealed back up." Buffy explains earnestly, "Xander is the reason my dimension lives happily ever after. So he matters. Not just to you and I, but to the whole world."

They hug in commiserate grief.

Oz wiggles an ear. "No arguing, no crying, no laughing. Is this a good sign?"

"Oh!" exclaims Larry in excitement. "Maybe they're making out?" He scrambles to open the door a bit wider.

Oz lifts the tail end of an eyebrow. "How did you go from no laughing to making out?"

Larry pouts in masculine disappointment. "Darn! They're just hugging." He turns his head to answer Oz, "Just the way my mind works, bro. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Okay," allows Oz, "Beautiful is not the word forging its way through my head, but it is also an adjective."

Willow is sniffling into Buffy's neck, when her vampire face abruptly sprouts. "I need to eat, like right now!" she yells. Willow tries to flip her hair in front of her demon features.

"Don't stress about it, Willow. You controlled it," Buffy encourages. When Willow keeps her face hidden, Buffy exasperates, "Honestly, Will, do you think you need to hide your face from me? I see vampire faces every day."

"Right before they turn to dust," remarks Willow a little bitterly.

Buffy's laugh lines crumple into ragged paths of grief. "Not all vampires. I loved a vampire." She admits more quietly. "Part of me still does, I guess."

Willow's mouth o's with horrified realization. "Angel? You loved Angel?"

Buffy starts a hopeful smile, "You knew him?"

"I – I did terrible things to him. I tor- . . ."

Buffy flings a hand up to stop Willow's words. "Don't really want to know."

Willow whispers sadly, "Because you couldn't forgive me. Couldn't force yourself to help me. . ."

Buffy ends Willow's monologue with, "I killed him once."

"Once?" Larry inquires of fellow-eavesdropper Oz. "Does it generally take more than once."

"SShhh!"

Willow ventures, "He went bad?"

Buffy shakes her head in the negative. "He was good when I killed him. He had his soul. I had to sacrifice him to save the world. I sent Angel to hell for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. He was tortured and alone. He knew that someone he loved killed him. That I killed him. I sent him to hell with a kiss and a sword through the heart."

Larry comments to Oz, "When you think about it, Slayers are really above us mortals. She's not for the likes of me to love. I'll just worship her from afar." mutters "Far afar."

Willow thinks about how much similarity there was in how they both treated Angel, but tactfully refrains from saying it aloud.

Buffy continues, "I forgave myself, eventually, and I could forgive you. I don't want you to talk about _your _evil deeds because I have enough of my own to try to put behind me. Evil here, evil there, evil past, evil present. Your evil, my evil. I don't want to deal with _all_ of it. I can't deal with all of it. I don't multi-process well."

The babble finally ends and Willow's eyes are glazed as she squeaks, "Okay."

Buffy brightens. "But you know who you could talk things through with? Oz! Oz is a great listener."

"Oz," Willow repeats, "The little one."

Buffy fires confused blinks in rapid succession. "Little? I never really thought of him as little."

Willow gazes down at Buffy from her superior height. "Imagine that."

With a sense of discovery, Oz wonders aloud to Larry, "Am I little?"

Larry renders a mighty blow to Oz's shoulder, "She means between the two of us. You're little compared to me."

Oz half-grins, "King Kong is little compared to you."

Buffy looks down at herself. She draws her spine straight with pride, "I'm tall on the inside."

Willow smirks, "Yeah, there's a winning argument."

"I could take you in a heartbeat," insists Buffy.

"You're only making me hungrier," teases Willow with sinful curve to her lips. "And," Willow adds, "memo - no heartbeat."

"Okay, Miss Pulse-challenged, my point was Oz is a good listener and he understands about having a dual nature."

"What, is he gay?"

"No," informs Buffy, "he's a werewolf."

Oz frowns with furry eyebrows, "How in the _hell_ did she know that?" He gets to his feet and stomps into the room. "How did you know that? That's personal, private!" He points to Willow with the last sentence.

"Kind of like Willow and I's conversation?" Buffy inquires innocently.

"Umm."

"As to how I knew," Buffy continues, "Your cousin Jordie bit you, right?"

Larry wheels on Oz. "Your cousin Jordie in preschool? You told me you survived a vicious attack!"

"He has very sharp teeth," Oz insists, "and you know it's the little guys who have all the speed."

Larry mocks, "So where'd he bite you, your ankle?"

"No," Buffy supplies happily, "in the f. . ." Buffy quickly shifts words when Oz turns a stare her way. ". . .jugular."

"That's it!" explodes a twitchy Willow. "I'm going to the kitchen for some O positive before I eat someone." She blasts out of the room with Olympic haste.

Larry and Oz watch her go with wistful expressions.

Giles and Jenny enter in time to see hungry-face leave. Buffy sits in a nearby chair with a wrung-out whoosh. They seat themselves across from Buffy.

Giles mentions, "Jenny was discussing the re-ensoulment spell with me." He stares at Jenny. "Fascinating."

Jenny smiles her acknowledgement of his subtle compliment before turning back to Buffy, "Yes, how did you even know of it? I wasn't sure I could duplicate it, it's of such ancient origin."

Buffy answers quietly, "I knew Angel." At Jenny's confused expression, Buffy clarifies, "Angelus."

"Ah," breathes Jenny.

Buffy returns to the present. "Poor Willow," gazing at the door where Willow exited, "I just wish that the spell didn't have that happily-never-after clause tagged on it. Wish? Did I say wish. . . um . . ."

Before a self-righteous Giles can begin his lecture, Jenny responds, "Oh, I took that part out."

Buffy displays dropped jaw. "You what?! You took that part out?" Buffy jumps up, gesturing excitedly. "That part can be taken out?!"

Jenny leans back from Buffy's over-enthusiasm, "Yes, I mentioned your request to my Elders and they told me that our ancestors added that particular addendum. They suggested using the original spell when I told them why the spell was needed."

Buffy sits back down, deflated. "Your Elders. Oh."

Jenny adds with curiosity evident, "For some reason, they were particularly glad to hear Willow would regain her soul without the suffering-ever-after clause. I have no idea how they even know her."

Buffy speaks with some bitterness, "They kept an eye on Angel's suffering quotient, right?"

"Well," Jenny admits, shifting uncomfortably in her chair, "Yes."

"Let's just say she did them a service," Buffy says with a dry tone.

"Oh."

Buffy broods on Angel's fate for a few heartbeats before Willow's situation intrudes. Buffy squares positive shoulders. "But this is great! She can have that moment of perfect happiness!" Buffy avoids responding to questioning glances, "If the opportunity ever presents itself."

When she adds nothing further, Giles asks impatiently, "So, are you going to tell us your big plan to kill the Master now?"

"Let's just wait 'til Willow finishes her blood run." Buffy adds with chain-jerking enunciation, "Constantly repeating oneself is Giles' job."

"I beg your pardon?" huffs Giles.

"See?" Buffy teases, "You say that a lot."

Giles narrows offended lids, "Obviously with cause. I. . ."

His diatribe is interrupted by Willow's return.

"Willow!" jumps in Buffy, "Just in time for the summit meeting."

Giles subsides with a glare.

Buffy leans forward, resting elbows on the table. She shakes out a rolled-up paper. "Here's the plan."

*

Oz hears the sound of weeping as he passes by a room on his way to the mansion kitchen. He pauses by the door for a moment, then knocks.

"Willow?" he whispers, "is it okay if I come in?" At the lack of response, Oz eases into the room.

Willow lays limp on the floor as grief wracks her body. She raises tortured eyes to Oz.

"Xander was a monster. The disgusting things he did, the people he reveled in killing. I loved him," she claims, curling into a fetal position. "Before he died and after." Willow shakes her head. "I love him," she corrects. "I love him and I hate him. He was awful. He killed me. He made me a perverted, horrifying demon." Willow shuts her eyes tight. "I miss him. I don't want to be without him. I miss him."

Without a word, Oz lays down behind her and gathers her cold body in his arms. For a long time he holds her while she sobs and babbles. Eventually, she quiets to mere shudders of emotional loss.

"Love is never wasted," Oz states. "One way or another, it ends up making the world a better place."

Willow flips over to gaze into Oz's eyes. "What about hate?"

"It's good for short term motivation," he allows, "But then it's time to let go of it. It'll only poison your existence."

Willow settles down into his arms. Oz holds her for several minutes.

"I want to bite you," Willow confesses against his neck.

"Some other time," he mumbles and falls asleep in her confounded embrace.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Bronze smells sweet, of dried blood, as Willow steps inside. She glides toward a seated Master while Buffy hobbles in chains behind her. Several eager-faced vamps trail them. Willow whips around at them, snarling. They stop, look around, twiddle their thumbs and other activities vampires do when they're trying to be nonchalant.

Willow approaches the Master's iron chair. She shoves a bruised Slayer to her knees before the Master and rests a black boot on Buffy's back.

Pleasure suffuses the Master's face. He places a deliberate clawed hand over his unmoving left ventricle. "A Slayer?" He asks in wonderment, "For me?"

Willow shrugs with pleased embarrassment, "What do you get the Master who has everything?"

"And it's not even my deathday." The Master sighs happily, looking at the humbled Slayer, "Willow, you make me so proud."

"So," Willow inquires with feigned disinterest, "Are you in the mood for Slayer a la carte?" She grins with fanged teeth, "Or would you like a new puppy?"

The Master, in the middle of descending the step from his throne, pauses, taken aback. "A new puppy? The Slayer? A diabolical idea." He announces. "Worthy of me." He smiles fondly at Willow.

Her face pointed toward the floor, Buffy allows herself a small smile.

"After all," continues the Master, "Why have a new Slayer running about, interfering with my plans." He moves onward. A talon caresses Buffy's blond hair. "We'll just keep this one a while, shall we?" He gestures to three nearby vamps, "Put her in the puppy's kennel," he orders. The Master turns back to Willow, sighing with happiness. "It's always nice to have a pet to love. They have so much to give a good owner."

One of the vamps yanks Buffy to her feet as Willow removes her foot.

"You have her well-trained," The Master remarks with curiosity. "You've only been gone just four days."

"Not really," Willow respectfully disagrees, "she refuses me the satisfaction of hearing her scream."

"Don't fret," Comforts the Master, patting Willow's hand, "The harder they are to break, the sweeter the victory in the end."

Willow connects her gaze to the Master's. "I can think of no greater pleasure than to hear the screams, the pleas, the begging for mercy of Alexander's murderer." Willow's voice turns vague, "But the Slayer, she is yours. Perhaps you would grant me the privilege of watching when you at last make her scream."

The Master smiles with supreme benevolence, "You are always welcome to attend my training sessions." He turns and ascends his throne. "We will discipline our new puppy together. Can't have a pet running about, mauling the wrong people." He looks sideways at Willow and nods in the direction where they took Buffy, "Not even one little bite?"

Willow allows, "Where she bled, I tasted. But I knew if I bit her, I wouldn't stop until she was dead." Willow fists her hands. "And that would have been too quick. My best friend is dead and I must have true vengeance. Only you can bring total closure to my suffering. Only you can make the screams and pleas I need to hear."

The Master visibly preens. "You will perhaps help, though? Hold a scalpel or two?

Willow smiles suddenly with eerie joy. "The Slayer heals quickly." Willow starts to sway to an unheard rhythm. "She might even be more fun than our last puppy."

The Master spreads lips in grim delight and inquires, "Tell me, is the blood from a Slayer everything they say?"

Willow recalls with unfortunate clarity Buffy feeding her the glass of pig's blood. The flat, cold taste. No emotions to spice the blood and tease the palate. Sadly, Willow answers, "I don't know how I can ever go back to anything else."

*

The three vampires drag Buffy to the cell that once held Angel. She stiffens as they near it. Burnt matches and blood stains form a gruesome collage.

"Yeah, little Slayer, welcome to your new home." He mistakes her actions for fear and it makes him bold. He contemptuously throws a fist at her.

Buffy is exceedingly grateful to be gifted with a perfect target for her rage. Chained wrists pulverize his fist between them. He lets out a scream as the pain and the gore of metal –twisted flesh assault his senses.

While he's busy doing that, Buffy spins her leg low, swiping the vampire off his feet. She wraps her wrist chains under his neck. Smashing one foot on his head and other between his shoulder blades, Buffy yanks up with all her might. The other two vampires run to get help.

"You're gonna die," Buffy vows, panting. She yanks and yanks. The chains bite deeper into the vampire's neck. In a low, vicious voice, she promises repeatedly, "You're gonna die." Growling with effort, a mighty jerk finally severs the vampire's head, but he had long since expired of fright.

A flood of vampires come running in to subdue Buffy. Enraged, she screams and beats on any moving parts she can reach. They finally force her into the cage and attach her shackles to the steel rings in the wall. That done, they all diligently seek other tasks that desperately need attention, incidentally leaving the ranting Slayer alone.

"You'll pay for this!" she yells at their diminishing backs. "You're all going to die!" Buffy cackles madly, "You're all going to die."

*

The Master stretches misshapen lips wide as the perfect music of pain and torment reaches his tipped ears. "Ah, it's good to have a Slayer in the house." Earnestly explains to Willow, "Keeps the underlings on their toes."

*

When the last vamp is vicinity-free, Buffy smiles with grim satisfaction. The smile withers as a bruised hand touches horror-soaked walls.

"You were so alone." Buffy's mind's eye recaptures the scene where Angel calls her name as he dies. Tears wend their way through welts and torn flesh, turning pink with blood. "I'm sorry I was too late to save you," she whispers. Buffy closes her eyes for a long moment and breathes out the pain.

Life went on. Not because of callous disregard, but to deny pain and death the victory.

Buffy unshackles herself from the chains with a calculated twist and jerk. Comments to herself, "Nice thing about dimension hopping. . ." Buffy flashes back to when she releases herself from identical chains before a blade-wielding Faith, ". . .defeating villains with the devious use of trick chains is recyclable."

Buffy pulls two long, thin metal wires from the side seams of her jeans. Winding them together, she bends the end and unhooks the keys from their nail on the wall. Buffy finds the correct key and unlocks her prison. Turning, Buffy addresses the cell as the door swings open. "Your revenge is at hand, Angel. May your soul rest in peace."

*

A loud explosion from outside the Bronze interrupts the Master's yapping. He looks in the direction of the noise. The roaring shakes the building a moment later and he sends an amused glance Willow's way. "I do believe I hear the musical reverberations of a futile rescue attempt. Did you take their Slayer without asking? Shame on you." The Master glides vertical. "Well, we mustn't let the perimeter guards have all the fun."

As he turns his back, Willow raises the wooden stake hidden in her sleeve and brutally rams it through his spine and into the Master's heart. He twists, displaying the red wooden point from his breastbone. Drops slip from the tip, one by one, to gather in splats between his feet.

"Willow, you?" Pained surprise changes to brief regret in his daisy-heart eyes. He moves slowly toward her, saying conversationally, "You know what the real curse of vampirism is?" A clawed finger to Willow's shoulder send her spinning like a frazzled kite through the air. "Boredom," The Master answers himself. "Whatever can be said about your intelligence at this moment, you're still the gift that keeps on giving."

Several vampires rush to dispatch the fallen Willow. The Master raises a restraining hand, saying, "The day I can't handle a fledgling by myself, just take me out back and stake me," he snicks a little chuckle, gesturing at his torso. The flunky vampires echo it nervously.

The Mater turns back to Willow as she gets to her feet with a leg flare whip-back. Unseen blood permeates her leather encased body as she stalks warily around him.

"You have managed to surprise me." The Master shakes his head thoughtfully. "Not so much the betrayal. Betrayal is as old as Lucifer." Willow feints right and a waiting fist on the left lands her flat on her back.

Willow kicks upward from her prone position, connecting with the stake lodged in the Master's chest. It makes him grunt, bringing a genuine smile to Willow's lips. The Master squishes said smile with pounding knuckles.

"What surprises me is your stupidity. I have embraced you as a beloved child. I have taught you everything you know," he lectures as he batters Willow. "I would have sworn that your IQ exceeded what you demonstrate here today."

"Bored now," Willow drones when her face has a free moment.

The Master inclines his head, "Pearls before swine," he quotes with a sniff and a sneer as his uppercut sends Willow doll-flopping atop the stage meters away. The Master flicker-speeds to her horizontal body. Or not. He looks down to realize that he's in the same place. There's a glitch in his go-fast mechanism. The vampires watching stir uneasily as they sense that something is wrong.

The Master glances down at the red, wet wood blossoming from his chest and allows, "I guess having a stake through the heart can really impede one's end game." He sighs sadly. "Ah well, brute strength lacks the gentle irony I prefer to lend my work, but situational flexibility is a sign of a well developed intellect." He walks toward Willow, who has engaged a battle-ready stance. She barely manages to duck his skull crushing blow as she mocks, "You really do love to hear yourself, talk, don't you?"

He continues his speech, ignoring Willow's pointless yammering, with a sigh, "One does what one must." He batters her with fists and feet. He reaches in his sleeve and pulls out a sharp pencil.

Willow tries in vain to get a fist in edgewise. Desperately, she blocks his attack until a stray elbow jostles the stake in the Master's heart wound. He staggers momentarily. Willow wears a feral smile as she rams the heel of her hand underneath the pointed wood, forcing the stake upward within him. The surrounding crowd stand frozen as his he claws at his back, trying to pull the stake out..

While he is thus futilely occupied, Willow unsheathes a sword from her own flesh. Slick with her blood, Willow raises the weapon high. Cold with hate, her sweet voice utters, "I'm just sorry I don't get to hear you scream." As the sword comes across in a lateral slice, Willow whispers, "For Xander."

CHAPTER NINE

Xander's heart beats in his throat. Jesse and he had been game for a while about the two beautiful women who'd led them through the cemetery and into some old tunnels. Now, Xander begins to wonder if something is seriously weird. There are mutants under Sunnydale. He's looking right at them. Or maybe aliens. Suddenly, getting lucky never seemed worse fun.

As usual, when nervous, Xander babbles, "Most I'd started to worry about was being set up for a mugging. And since we're pretty much broke, I didn't have a lot to lose." Xander points to the Master, "Being introduced to post-apocalypse face there exponentially upped the worry ante."

Jesse whispers back to him, "We gotta get out of here. Look at that guy. I think this is some kind of cult."

Two vamps bring a schoolmate forward to the Master. Xander's stomach clenches, "I think it's worse than that."

It's obvious from the girl's condition that unlike Xander and Jesse, she had started to struggle somewhere along the journey here. Her wrist dangles at a wrong angle from an awkwardly placed shoulder. Cuts and forming bruises mar her skin. Xander gets a bowel-loosening bad feeling about this. The girl groans with pain. Xander crouches in fury, his personal fear back-burnered.

When the Master bares the girl's neck, Xander explodes into action. Leaping furiously to the girl's rescue, he meets a waiting fist.

Luc shakes a shaggy head in detached scorn, "A hero."

Xander peers through multiple contusions. The Master lifts his head from his dinner, a single drop of blood shines obscenely bright from a fang, reflecting the rooms golden candlelight. "You know what they say about a hero's blood. . .?" He dips down again to his victim's jugular. Humans are good to the last drop. He flips the drained corpse to the floor as Xander weeps at the Master's feet. The Master finishes his thought, ". . . That it tastes the same as any other." The Master gestures to Jesse, staring at Xander with cruel smile, "Bring me his friend."

That galvanizes Xander. He uses the surprise tactic, swinging at the Master. He gets hammered in the groin. Xander loses the breath to express his pain. He would collapse, but he sees them dragging Jesse toward the Master. Futilely, Xander tries again and again to attack, earning himself several wounds, not to mention a broken leg. He tries to stand on it when Jesse is brought within inches of the Master and turns horrified eyes Xander's way.

The Master rests a hip, staring at Xander. The Master muses aloud, "I'm beginning to like him."

Luc answers with an expressionless face. "I'm beginning to get annoyed."

"Whatever for?"

Luc glances at Xander, "Incompetence annoys me."

The Master asks innocently, "Where's your compassion for the disabled? He's a warrior."

Horrified denial flickers in Luc's eyes, but he remains stubbornly silent.

As pleasing as it is to see the implacable Luc ruffled, the Master explains, "A warrior in heart, not in body. His attempts to fight . . ."

"Pathetic," Luc crosses his arms over his chest.

The Master nods agreement, "Ridiculous even. No natural talent – but _fire_! Oh yes, the fire is there." The Master casually grabs Jesse's hair and wrenches Jesse's head to the side. Jesse is numb with fear, resigned to death.

Tears raging down his cheeks, Xander yells, "Jesse! Jesse!" Xander throws a rock, hitting the Master's knee. The Master chuckles, "Damn, he's fun." Fangs strike Jesse's neck.

Xander screams profanely at all the vampires. Words such as parasites, God-forsaken, oh and you're ugly, too are thrown around. When Jesse is tossed to the ground, lifeless, Xander's fury can find no words. Xander roars, throwing various debris.

Luc picks up Xander by the shoulder like one would a ragdoll. He offers Xander's wiggling neck to the Master.

The Master stares at the tableau a long moment, pondering, "I think I'll keep him for a midnight snack."

Luc's eyes widen in disbelief. He cajoles, "Master, I'll get you another. You need to be strong for the Harvest."

That's when Xander realizes that the blood is making the Master stronger. He wonders if reverse psychology works with vampires. They'd probably seen it all. Xander decides to gamble that they were behind the times.

"You think I want to stick around, smelling the rot of you, waiting to die? Get it over with, you pus-faced freak!" Xander screams.

The Master chuckles at Xander's venom. He looks pleadingly at Luc. "So few things amuse me at my age."

Luc knows when he is beaten. "Fine," he grumbles, plopping Xander down. "I'll see who's out strolling." Luc stomps into the tunnel.

While the Master watches Luc depart, smiling fondly, Xander surreptitiously slices a sharp rock over his wrist. It stings like a sumbich and Xander holds back a scream of agony. He looks down to see a few drops of blood actually appear.

'Can't you even succeed at suicide?' Xander rages at himself. He looks around, but there's nothing sharper. He thinks for a second, and then lays down on his side. 'Maybe he'll believe I'm taking a nap,' Xander tells himself sarcastically. He swallows the fear lump in his throat. Steeling himself, Xander rams the rock into his jugular. This time, he can't hold back a shriek.

The Master whips eyes Xander's way and Xander starts swearing at him, yelling creative invectives at the top of his lungs.

The Master sighs happily, "Just when I was afraid you were going to bore me." He sits back, drinking in aurally all the current blasphemies.

Luc returns as Xander's weakened body croaks a last epithet.

"Back so soon?" queries the surprised Master.

"Darla is coming with another offering." Luc smiles when he sees blood pooled beneath Xander's neck. "You got hungry after all?"

"What?" The Master looks down and sees Xander's supine form. "No!" he exclaims in dismay. Admiration tinges the Master's words as he realizes, "He did this to himself."

Darla hears his words as she enters with a victim. "Not even Luc can bite his own neck," she disallows, grinning.

The Master kneels and fondles the blood-soaked rock beside Xander. "This one is too special to waste," he states.

Luc shakes his head in frantic denial, "Master, please, you need to take _his_ blood, not give him yours. You are too diminished. . ."

The Master blazes eyes of outrage at the soon prostrate Luc, "I am not diminished! I will never be. . ." He ends his tirade abruptly, "Mere seconds and he will be gone." The Master raises his wrist to his teeth.

"Very well," Luc says in resignation. "I will do it."

The Master denies him. "You have not eaten. Besides, this one is mine." The Master tears a wound in his wrist and places it to Xander's lips. Xander turns his head slightly, trying to escape a dark fate.

The Master raises a hypnotic hand. "Drink," he commands as he caresses Xander's hair.

Xander drinks.

CHAPTER TEN

The bald head is shucked from its clad body. Flesh melts, leaving a bare, fanged skull several feet from its skeletal home.

Buffy rushes in to see vamps frozen, staring at the floor next to Willow. 'Uh oh,' Buffy thinks. Buffy moves up beside Willow and sees dem bones. She glares accusingly at Willow, standing there with a fast dripping sword. The drops, sparkling with reflected candlelight, catch her eye in a surreal moment, before they tumble with disco-ball flickers to the dance floor.

"I thought I told you to let me handle it!" barks Buffy, snapping out of her time warp.

Willow returns her stare steadily, "And let you have_ all_ the fun?" Willow turns. "He was mine to kill." She pauses, glancing sideways at Buffy, "Besides, you got to kill him last time."

"But I didn't really get to savor it," Buffy insists.

Willow ignores the ridiculous statement. She asks, "Why are the bones left?"

"Did I forget to mention? We're not done. Now we crush his bones to make our bread."

Willow announces with genuine pleasure, "You take me on the nicest dates."

Vampires gathered in mourning finally shake their lethargy. The one closest to Buffy screams, "Save the Master's boner!"

Buffy gapes, "Did he just say. . .?"

Willow smirks at the embarrassed vampire, "I'm sure it was just a typo."

Buffy and Willow stand so their backs almost touch. The smart and cowardly vampires run to escape the impending massacre. The dumb and brave stay for various insupportable reasons. Vampire evolution at its finest.

Buffy and Willow ease over top of the skeleton as angry vampires surround them.

Buffy readies a stake for each hand and raises a shod foot, "Start stomping."

Buffy and Willow grind the Master beneath their feet.

"No!" scream maddened vampires. They rush the pair.

Willow raises her sword to meet the rush. Buffy does a double take at it. "That's Giles' Phoenician sword!" she exclaims, parrying a vampire blow. Buffy breaks his heart while giving his friend wood on the side.

Disinterestedly, Willow responds, "Is it?" while she beheads two vamps who weren't using them anyway.

"Did you steal that?" accuses Buffy with disbelief rampant in her voice as she sweeps a vamp's feet from under him and stabs downward into his chest with one stake, thrusting the other stake-holding hand up through the solar plexus of his face-sister.

"I borrowed it," corrects Willow, serving a vampire his heart from the tip of her sword. He screams as he watches his heart disintegrate moments before the rest of him.

Buffy brightens with happy discovery, "I didn't know that would kill a vampire!" she exclaims as a vamp deflates himself on her sharp point.

"And you the Slayer," Willow mocks, whipping the sword through multiple necks.

Buffy pauses as a thought occurs, "Wait a minute." She faces Willow directly. "How did you get that in here?" She gestures to Willow's clothes. "Where could you possibly hide it?"

Willow madly kills vampires trying to take advantage of the Slayer's distraction. She deadpans, "You don't want to know."

Buffy wails, "Willow! Why did you say that?" Unfrozen, Buffy viciously whips her stake-clenched fists in purge-these-thoughts frenzy. "Now I have worst case scenario imagery burned into my brain!" The stake motion is ceaseless – thrust, poof, thrust, poof. "You could have lied!" cries Buffy.

Willow smiles with evil delight. "Friends don't tell friends lies."

Buffy is saved from responding by the timely arrival of the cavalry as Giles, Larry and Oz finally burst though the door. Buffy greets them with change-of-subject joy.

She laughs, "It's about time you guys got here!" The vamp before her gets foot to the jaw, followed by stake to the chest.

Oz, Larry and Giles lift battered and bleeding faces her way. They are in no mood to chuckle with battle comradery.

Giles snaps, "We took a tour around the fountain during this walk through the park!" He struggles with increasing desperation against a vampire whose teeth are fang's length from his jugular and getting closer. He finally manages to knee it between the legs and ram home an untipped spear as a dust maker. Panting, Giles shouts, "Shut up, would you? I'm busy!"

Buffy laughs with glee. Somehow, with Giles here, victory seems a foregone conclusion. Two stakes create a bull-roar in the air as the speed of multi-vampiric demise creates a rushing river of dust.

The Y gender gapes in dumb amazement at the Buffy flood of death. They would have been easy meat, except the vampires near them were too busy running away to stop for dinner.

Willow, reveling in destroying the image not in the mirror, is the only one who does not allow herself to become distracted. Thus, with some timely sword work, she prevents Buffy's mortal end a time or two.

When the dust settles, only the white hats are left in hydrated form. Diaphragm heaving, Buffy rests a stake-laden hand on Willow's shoulder.

"See?" Buffy mentions with vindicated aura. "I told you I needed you."

Willow nods with pseudo-innocent agreement, "You were right."

Buffy's head snaps up mid-pant, "Hey!"

Larry groans, "Here they go again."

Willow responds to Buffy's exclamation mildly, "I was only agreeing with you."

Buffy's mouth quivers madly with the need to reply intelligently, but nothing comes to mind that doesn't make her look stupid.

Giles kindly intervenes. "Well done, you two!" He shakes his head in regret. "Wish I'd thought to bring a video camera."

Buffy ask curiously, "Would they show up on film?"

Giles blinks dumbfoundedly, "What?"

She repeats, "Would vampires show up on film?"

Giles bites on his lower lip thoughtfully, "I never really thought about that." He flicks eyes toward Willow, "We should find out."

Willow shrugs, bored now that the violence is over. "Whatever. I've worked up an appetite and I'm hungry." She eyes the humans avidly with eyes turning yellow. One by one, they avoid her gaze. Except Oz. Willow smiles fangily as she snakes toward him. "Aren't we brave?" She challenges.

Oz meets her golden eyes calmly. "I have nothing to fear."

Willow moves closer, brushing bodies. "You don't smell afraid," she comments, sniffing. "You smell. . ." sniff, sniff, ". . . particularly good."

"I _am_," Oz pauses for effect, drawing out the next word with suggestive tones, "_particularly_ good," he answers, inhaling Willow's scent in turn.

"Okay," Buffy asks the others, "I haven't turned invisible, have I? I suddenly feel not present."

Larry adds with disgruntled jealousy, "Yeah people! Get a room!"

Giles obsessively cleans his glasses of blood and vampire dust. A particularly stubborn combination he tells himself, studiously ignoring the crackling chemistry on the dance floor. "We should head back," Giles announces to all concerned and unconcerned. "See if the Hellmouth is sealed."

Buffy grasps the segue with desperate gratitude. "Great idea!"

The sniff-a-thon gets way, way out of hand as Willow licks the side of Oz's neck. Oz's heart pounds wildly, his pheromone output skyrockets. Willow moans with dual hungers. "May I?" she whispers through sharp teeth, predator eyes meeting his unabashed.

Buffy one-eightys away from the scene. "Okay," she says ultra perkily, "We're outta here!"

Giles follows her lead and walks swiftly to the exit. Larry, over his moment of jealousy, shows no sign of leaving. In fact, every sign of indulging in overt voyeurism. Buffy snags his arm on her way out.

Larry wails, "But I want to wa. . ." he stops abruptly as Buffy shoots his a disgusted look, mumbling disgruntledly to himself.

Once out of the oppressive atmosphere of hormone overload, Giles says thoughtfully, "They'd be a good match, actually, Willow and Oz." He adds, "If their personalities are compatible."

Buffy thinks the conversation quite strange, but responds, "They were compatible on my world with sweet, super-smart, cotton-wearing Willow."

"It's a harsher world here," says Giles, dismissing Buffy's doubtful tone.

Buffy's eyes pick out dead body parts strewn here and there on the streets as they walk to Giles' car. Mild sarcasm colors her voice, "I really hadn't noticed."

Giles smiles grimly, seeing her point. He returns to his original topic with a dismissive gesture. "Oz won't age and die like the rest of us."

Buffy tucks in a discombobulated chin, "What?"

"You know he's a werewolf?" At Buffy's nod, Giles continues, "The only thing that kills him is silver in his heart." Giles cocks his head, "Well that or complete dismemberment." He looks over at Buffy, "And how often does that happen?" A frown appears between Giles eyebrows as he thinks about that. "In a world _without_ thousands upon thousands of rampaging demons."

Buffy is still cautious about boarding this conversational plane. She ventures, "You mean just in his werewolf state, right?"

Giles shakes his blood-sticky head, "No, in his human state, too." Scenes from several deadly battles flash in his memory. Oz lying on the ground like death, only to get up a few minutes later. "I'm afraid it's been field-tested."

Buffy bites a cheek muscle thoughtfully, "I don't think it works that way in Sunnydale#1"

Giles allows, "I don't think it used to work that way here. But belief is powerful. When people began knowing that the supernatural existed, myths became reality in some cases. All the demonic energy and magic released by the Hellmouth helped twist reality into people's preconceived notions of werewolves. And perhaps twisted a few other supernatural creatures in a way we're not yet aware of. Anyway, when Oz kept healing from injuries, some of which should have been fatal, I informed the Watcher's Council. They did a study of some known werewolves and learned that the older werewolves were being rejuvenated to their prime and all werewolves are impervious to injury even in human form."

"They don't get old? Hmm." Buffy fantasizes for a moment. "Can Slayers get lycanthropy?"

Giles gives her his patented disgusted expression.

"Just kidding," Buffy announces. She mumbles under her breath, "Mostly."

"The children with it are still aging, however. They may be pervious to injury as well. I guess people don't think of children as invulnerable werewolves," Giles informs.

"That's a good thing!" Buffy fumbles to clarify, "The aging thing, not the possible perviousity to injury. Children should age, imagine being short forever."

Giles forces himself silent. But the quiver in his chin gives him away.

"I saw that!" accuses Buffy before she changes topic abruptly. "Willow and Oz is a good thing. Neither will have to be alone, watching everyone they know and love, grow old and die." She tries not to think of Angel, failing as is Buffy's custom. She forces his image from her mind, "They'll always have each other."

Giles nods and rubs his hands in Yenta satisfaction. "Yes, a good match. Willow could weaken him, but not kill him if she inadvertently drinks too much. And," he adds triumphantly, "she could hold off his werewolf form long enough for us to tranquilize him if Oz ever ends up outside his cage during the full moon cycle."

Larry feels he's been quiet long enough. "Well, that's great for them, Mr. Matchmaker. How 'bout finding me a matchless match?"

Giles ponders his response with great thoughtfulness. "I don't know that anyone exists who could truly appreciate all your qualities, Larry."

Larry momentarily exhibits pleased surprise, "Giles that's . . ." Larry stabs an angry finger in the air. "Wait a minute! That was a dig." Larry brings his nose close to Giles' faux-innocent face. "You just burned me! I'm on to you now, Englishman! You're not going to get away with it anymore!" Larry storms off, hands gesculating, voice raised in fury.

Giles allows a sneaky smile of satisfaction to ripple over his face. He tilts his head at Buffy. "Thanks."

"What for?" Buffy asks.

Giles admits, "I was getting tired of being the only one who got my jokes."

Buffy sucks in a quick breath of realization. "Giles, you are a bad, bad man."

Giles raises his chin proudly. "I like to think I'm doing the world a favor by putting down stupidity wherever I encounter it."

Buffy peers after a diminishing Larry. "He's stupid _all_ the time?"

"Okay, sometimes I'm a bad man."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jenny opens the mansion door as they start up the walkway. She greets them with an incandescent smile, announcing, "The Hellmouth is sealed."

A ragged smile of relief graces Giles' features. His legs feel like noodles as he hugs Jenny and Buffy fiercely to each side until propriety rears its well-groomed head. Giles steps back from them, clearing his throat, "Well, now the real battle begins. . ."

Jenny and Buffy voice identical scoffs. Buffy grabs his arm and leads him into the library. "You're allowed a moment to celebrate a victory won." She points a thoughtful finger upward. "Hey! Go crazy- take a day."

Giles' sits his wobbly legs down in a nearby chair. "You're right," he declares with chipperness, "I'll call the Council with the news, and then we party."

Larry enters the room to hear this last bit. He asks doubtfully, "You know how to party?"

Jenny sits in Giles' lap. She takes his face of the multiple bleeding parts with slender fingers. "Oh, he knows how . . ." She leans in for a kiss. Giles sinks fingers into long, black curls and uses his lips to punish her appropriately for her forward behavior.

Larry stares, momentarily speechless. Buffy drags him from the room.

Buffy closes the door behind them. Larry whispers fiercely, "This is _so_ unfair! I'm young and virile and ho-. . .I'm neeeeedy," he states, drawing out the word with faint whine. "Oz gets the sexy vampire. Giles gets the sexy gypsy. And what do I get? Rejected! And . . ." he adds, glaring accusingly at Buffy, "I'm not even allowed a vicarious thrill."

Buffy can't contain her curiosity any more. "Larry, aren't you gay?"

Larry puffs out a proud chest, declaring, "I refuse to limit myself that way. Who knows what gender my soul mate might be?"

Buffy looks at him doubtfully through lowered brows. "Your soul mate."

Larry confirms, "Right."

"What if your soul mate's not human?" Buffy ventures.

Larry brightens, thinking of Willow, "Like a vampire?"

"Like an a- . . .donkey," Buffy revises.

Larry places a hand to his stomach, nauseated. "Maybe there are limits." He perks up, "But meanwhile, I can test out everyone I come across to, you know, test for soulmate-fulness. Maybe even several times each," he adds, nodding earnestly, "You know, in case I don't realize right away that they're my soul mate." Thinking of all his classmates, he continues, "Before I graduate, I want to. . ."

Buffy spins to face him, "Graduate! The Mayor. . ." She demands, "What day is it exactly?"

"It's Sunday," offers Larry, "But I don't think the Mayor. . ."

Buffy puts frustrated fingers to her forehead, "Why do I even bother?" She calculates to herself, "Two years from Harvest. It may not be too late to kill the Mayor before he becomes invincible." Buffy's head comes up. "Giles! I have to tell Giles." She walks purposefully back to the library door and raises her hand to knock. Buffy pauses when she hears certain noises. Larry comes up beside her, unabashedly pressing his ear to the door.

Wryly, Buffy allows, "I guess we can wait ten minutes."

An hour later, Buffy has stopped pacing and sits on the floor with weary head in hands. She says sadly, "I think I'm beginning to know what a stevedore is."

Larry's head snaps up, "Hmm? It's a guy who carries stuff. Like when you unload trucks and things."

Buffy blinks at him through bleary eyes. "That doesn't even make sense."

Larry shrugs, "Neither does your comment."

Buffy snaps, "Stew in your ignorance! I don't need to explain myself."

Larry bellows, "Hey, you're the one who brought it up!"

A rumpled Giles opens the door, "What is all the ruckus out here?"

"Ruckus out _here_?" Buffy asks in disbelief.

Flustered, Giles stammers, "Um. . ."

Buffy waves a hand dismissively, "Whatever, listen it's really important. We need to do a little recon on Mayor Wilkins to see if he's invincible yet."

"Invincible."

"If he's not, we must kill the Mayor while we still have a chance."

*

Willow prowls in with Oz while Buffy explains the mayoral situation to the rest of the crew. Willow gives a satisfied stretch as she joins the conversation. "Mayor Wilikins? Yeah, I know him."

Buffy looks at her askance. "Know him?" she emphasizes.

Willow doesn't pretend to misunderstand, merely cocking an amused brow. "From a few demon-politico pow-wows. The Mayor is chaste."

Larry gapes at her, sickened. "Freak!" he exclaims.

"Yes, well," Willow explains, "sex ties the body too much to its human self. He's trying to achieve demonhood."

"A strange sort of goal one would think," Giles comments without emotion.

Willow shrugs, "It takes all kinds."

"Not really," Buffy disagrees. She turns to Giles, "Here's the thing. If I try to the kill the mayor and he's already in his invincible period, I'm going to end up as a smear on his wall."

"Unless," Giles glances Willow's way.

"What?" asks Willow, keen on the possibility of mayhem.

"Willow can follow you. If it looks like there's a problem, Willow can claim she's been tracking the Slayer who killed the Master. Maybe the mayor will let Willow take you away."

Buffy allows, "He is big on delegating death, but what if he makes alternate plans?"

Giles smiles grimly, "Mayor Wilkins will acquire a new wall mural in red. I hear modern art is all the rage."

Willow thoroughly enjoys Giles' dark look on the bright side, "So roll the fateful dice, Buffy." She taunts, "It's all or smear thing."

"Is _that_ supposed to be the biting humour of the undead?" Buffy immediately responds. "I sit in awe at your ability to stretch a metaphor. Not to mention mixing it."

The two square off for verbal blows when Giles interjects, "Don't you two have somewhere to be?" He pauses significantly, "Somewhere _else_ to be?"

Buffy sees Jenny hovering by Giles' shoulder and shudders. "Come on, Will. Let's go save Sunnydale from a big, demon snake."

Willow's visage brightens and she follows Buffy eagerly, "How big?"

*

The mayor looks up from his desk as Buffy walks in. He pauses his writing hand and smiles in welcome. "Ah, you must be…"

Buffy doesn't wait for him to finish his sentence. An arrow sprouts from his eye socket. Mayor Wilkins sags sideways, muttering in disbelief, "No, no. Two days, two days."

Guessing that means the mayor is mortal, Willow waltzes in the door and moves in behind him. She heaves the twitching corpse one-handed and sinks her teeth into his neck.

"Willow!" Buffy protests, "Eww!"

Willow hums with pleasure as Mayor Wilkins' blood floods her system.

"Willow!" Buffy repeats insistently.

Willow rolls yellow eyes Buffy's way and manages to convey a question with one arched brow as a missed trickle of blood escapes the corner of her feeding mouth.

"You shouldn't," Buffy begins with a grimace, "It's really not…" Buffy finally mutters to herself, "Whatever," and studies the bare walls while Willow finishes her breakfast.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Down the steps of city hall stride Willow in tight black leather, and Buffy in pink ruffles. Buffy holds a hand over a queasy stomach.

"That was disgusting," mouths Buffy.

Willow swivels a calm face Buffy's way. "The Mayor wasn't completely human anymore, you know." Willow smiles to herself with smug satisfaction, "Blood was still good, though." She starts picking at her teeth.

Buffy tries not to watch, but her eyes are drawn to the macabre moment. Disturbed, she grimaces saying, "That was the disgusting part."

"You need a stronger constitution," Willow announces. She puts a comradely arm around Buffy's shoulders and squeezes. "He was evil. Why not eat him?"

Buffy shakes her head, half-laughing, "Xander would just love to have an opening line like that for one of his jokes." A wistful smile crosses her face. "I wish I could hear what he'd say to that."

Panic fuses Willow's features, "Buffy, no!"

*

Buffy greets the too-familiar void with dread. She can only hope that she is going home. Buffy thinks hopefully, "Maybe I'll be struck unconscious at the moment of re-entry and avoid the emition scene all together." Her soul hits the entry portal to Sunnydale proper and veers in.

Buffy's Sunnydale body is pulled from bed to greet Buffy's void-crossing soul. They meet in Xander's basement as the soul of the younger Buffy is hurtled back to its home dimension.

Xander and Anya are engaged in horizontal athleticism. Anya is finishing one of her vengeance demon stories, saying, "He was evil, why not eat him?"

A very naked Xander replies, "It's not fair if evil men have all the fun."

Buffy interrupts the startled lovers gasping, "Please somebody, knock me out!" Her body doubles over as muscles clench her stomach into unholy regurgitation spasms.

Anya and Xander jump at the wretched sound. Xander tries frantically to cover himself and goes down in a pink tangle of limbs. Anya watches in confusion, unabashedly nude.

Xander finally pulls a blanket over imprudently visible parts. He turns to the vomiting Buffy, "Buffy, why are you here?" He peers at her more closely. "Buffy, are you okay?"

She looks up and tries to answer, but fluid erupts instead of words. Xander sends a disturbed question to Anya, "I'm not somehow repulsively different from other men, am I?"

Anya answers, "I don't think so, but I haven't been with another human for a thousand years and change."

"You're not a big comfort here," complains Xander.

Anya ignores him, making a face at the spreading pool of bile gathering from the epicenter of Buffy's mouth. "Is she ever going to stop?" Anya looks up at Xander. "Do we have to clean that up?"

Xander eyes the floor, "Maybe we should just move."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In a time pocket away, mere quantum steps sideways, the black djinn pads lazily to a divan, gliding its catlike body onto it. Mirrors define the room and Pal makes the most of them. Admiring himself, he thinks, 'Mine is the most beautiful form in all creation, no matter what that trumped up whiner Lucifer thinks.'

Pal's companion interrupts Pal's mild narcissism. "So," purrs Companion, "You've granted the human her three wishes, Pal?"

Pal yawns with a startlingly human face, "Hmmhm." His tail swings back and forth with a smooth, relaxed motion – like a child would swing a happy leg. "In all my eternity, I've never been rubbed by a Slayer." Pal grins, "Quite stimulating. It felt so good to really have to stretch. .." (Sudden feathered wings appear from Pal's shoulders and as suddenly disappear.) ". . . my powers."

As Pal settles down for a contented nap, he rumbles, "I must visit there again sometime."

Companion warns, "At least avoid situations where you must be rescued. You'll have to grant more wishes if the rescuer rubs you."

Pal smiles wickedly, "Only if they rub me the right way."

CHAPTER ONE

Buffy Summers of Cleveland, Ohio doesn't have to wonder which vamp is the Master. Obviously, butt-ugly face has to re-die. That poker-assed Brit Geeves had sent just the Slayer to do it. Sometimes a situation calls for brawn over brains. Not that Buffy lacks either. Okay, so maybe freeing the studly vamp from the Bronze was of questionable intelligence, but she can always kill him later if necessary. Time will tell. Buffy hears him ask, "What's the plan?"

Buffy sardonically raises her stake without turning to address Angel. "Don't fall on this."

Like she said, sometimes a situation just calls for brawn. Buffy is pleased to see that the humans in Sunnydale actually fight rather than numbly offer their throats. If there is anything she hates , it's a defeatist attitude. There is always a way out; a way to fix things. One just has to find it before you die. If you are too stupid to find it, it's still one's human duty to at least take the demon with you into death. Buffy wears vamp-bane like body perfume; heavy on the pulse points.

From across the room, The Master abruptly looks up, eyes meeting Buffy's. Buffy thinks, 'Oh yeah, come and get it.'

And the slayage begins. Buffy works the room, dusting a vamp or two en route to the Master. They make eye contact and Buffy's world goes black. She enters sensory deprivation. Blind, deaf, dumb and numb, Buffy suddenly relaxes. 'It's done,' she realizes, 'I'm dead.'

The relief is enormous. Buffy is annoyed to lose the battle, of course. Nobody likes to be a loser, but if the Master had killed her from across the room, who can beat that? Finally for her, the war is done. The after life is, perhaps, too quiet. But peace, ah peace at last.

Buffy's void moment ends when her afterlife gains picture and sound. She sees herself or someone who looks just like her kissing a big, muscley blond type and thinks, 'Peace is overrated, anyway.'

But then the blonde leaves and Buffy sighs wistfully. A moment later is when the brunette shows up. Whoa! Oh it's that cute vampire guy that died in the warehouse just before she did. 'Hey! This must be heaven. Me and a bunch of studmuffins for eternity. After a hard life's slaying; my reward.'

When Buffy's soul slips into the body dressed more for the theatre than slaying, Buffy flashes happy teeth at Angel and then at Riley who has just returned to the scene.

'Better and better,' Buffy thinks to herself.

"Buffy?" Riley asks uncertainly, hurt feelings just below the surface. He searches her eyes intently. His blue eyes turn steely as he senses something different about her. "You're not Buffy." He declares.

Buffy isn't expecting any trouble from him. This is heaven, after all. Therefore she is totally unprepared when Riley raises his weapon and blasts her with it. Electricity boils from it, sparking Buffy directly in the solar plexus. As she sees the blue fire coming toward her in seeming slow motion, Buffy allows, 'I guess I'm _not_ in heaven. . .' The current sends Buffy flying backward in the air. She lands unconscious several feet from the gun's first kiss. Riley stalks toward her, pulling some rope from a pocket.

Angel leaps between them in a predator crouch. His demon engorges Angel's face, snarling, "Stay away from her!" Angel mentally flagellates himself. He'd known Riley was too good to be true, but ignored his instincts, let his guard down. Angel can hear Buffy's heart thudding, so she's still alive, but when the gun's lightning had connected, Buffy's heart had stuttered. In that eternal pause, Angel had frozen, and fear such as he'd never experienced before had choked his capacity for action. But now that Angel has his faculties restored, Riley is going to pay, and pay and pay.

Using a steadying hand to the ground, Angel knocks Riley's gun away with an upward kick from his crouched position. Angel then whips his kicking leg sideways, using the momentum of it to bring himself vertical. The fight begins.

It's very brief. Riley punches Angel in the head. Angel utilizes Riley's offensive move to time his retaliation just right. A kick to Riley's stomach flings Riley into a tree where he's bashed unconscious when hard head meets hard limb.

Angel rushes to Buffy's side. His vamp face subsides as she moans and stirs. Angel kneels down and lifts her into his arms. Buffy opens pain-weighted eyelids and focuses on Angel's face. Buffy struggles to bring her mind online. Bits of data slowly coalesce through EMP damaged dendrites. Since she'd already deduced that this isn't heaven, she knows that she needs to get herself functioning. Although, she thinks, snuggling into Angel's arms, this place does have its perks. But if this isn't heaven, how can Angel be here? "I thaw," Buffy mumbles with mal-working lips, "I saw you turn to dust."

Angel sweeps her hair off her forehead. "One of your dreams?" he asks distractedly.

"No," Buffy denies, she forces numb mouth to enunciate understandable sounds. "We went to kill the Master and a vampire staked you. He had on a black leather trench coat. . ." she pauses, noticing Angel's attire, "hmm, just like that one." That's when Buffy realizes that _this_ must be the dream. It all makes sense. The two gorgeous men interested in her at the same time. Well one ended up trying to kill her, but that is something her psyche would dream up. Especially a gun that blasts blue electricity. And cuddly vampires, what was that all about? Definitely a dream. The Master hadn't killed her from across the room, he'd hypnoed her into some kind of hallucination. He is probably on his way to her vulnerable, limp body right now, intending to do her in. Well, at least he'd sent her a happy hallucination. Mostly happy, Buffy amends, taking stock of non-functioning body parts. She is probably making up her own hallucination. Ruining a perfectly good hallucination is just like her.

"The Master?" Angel's inquiry ends Buffy's mental ramblings. "What Master?"

When Buffy mumbles half-intelligibly, "I don't know, he's kind of - bat-faced," Angel forces himself not to panic. He straightens effortlessly with Buffy held in his arms. Buffy makes a satisfied hum in the back of her throat and rests weary head on Angel's chest.

Angel tightens a worried jaw muscle. "I think we'd better go see Giles."

"Okay," Buffy sighs, half-disgruntledly. 'There's just no romance left in my world,' She acknowledges to herself.

*

Giles answers a knock on the door of his apartment. Giles stands mute for a moment, taking in the picture of a frazzled Angel carrying limp Buffy. Her hair is more alive than she is. It dances slinky little cha-chas across Angel's chest and tickles his neck. A few strands delicately bop up his face.

"Buffy?" worries Giles. At her blurry, upper-lip only smile, Giles turns to Angel. "What happened? And why are _you _here, Angel?"

Buffy nods smugly to herself, slurring almost drunkenly, "That's what I asked him too." Her face is haloed by static-enlivened hair as she smiles up at Angel. "Angel, what a nice name."

Giles' face blanks, "Oh dear," he murmurs.

Angel shifts Buffy's form impatiently. "Can we come in?"

Giles raises a flustered hand, "Yes, yes of course."

Angel strides in and settles Buffy on the single spare corner of the book strewn couch. Angel tosses Giles a wry expression as Angel gathers up a mighty load of books with a questioning expression.

"Oh!" Giles whips gaze around frantically and settles on the just vacated couch seat. "There!" he points.

Angel peers at Giles anxiously. It's a really bad time for him to be insane. "That's what I'm clearing off." Angel nods to where Buffy's just about falling over onto the rest of the couch cushions.

"Of course it is." Giles narrow his eyes and looks at Angel suspiciously. "Don't try to change the subject. Why are you in Sunnydale and what's wrong with Buffy?" Buffy starts to giggle weakly. Giles drops his voice to a whisper, "Is she drunk?"

Angel replies flatly, "That Riley guy shot her with his electric gun."

Rage switches off the light in Giles' eyes. Death takes its place. Chills crawl up Angel's spine. When Giles is truly pissed, Angel would swear that Giles harbours a demon of his own.

"Did he now?" comes Giles toneless voice. He picks up a letter opener on the table and starts idly twirling it between his fingers. Watching the play of light its spinning produces, Giles twists his mouth in a menacing smile. "Where is he now?" Giles asks softly.

"Up a tree," Angel announces dismissively. "It gets worse."

"What could possibly be worse than Buffy's boyfriend trying to kill her?" Giles demands. He stops abruptly at the lost look of Angel's face. Giles coughs, "Right, then, you were saying?"

Angel starts to explain when Buffy, feeling more and more confused by their conversation pipes up, "My boyfriend? He wasn't my boyfriend. The Slayer can't have a boyfriend. It puts them both at risk."

Giles is struck speechless by this sensible rhetoric coming from Buffy's mouth. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out but garble. Buffy continues to ramble on, looking at her surrounding. "If this is where you live, why did you give me a debriefing in that old mansion before I went to kill the Master?"

"Oh dear," Giles murmurs.

Buffy goes on, turning her gaze to Giles, "You were right about him." Nods emphatically, "I was so notprepared. I went to his lair at the Bronze and he wasn't there." Buffy inclines head toward Angel. "He was there."

Angel shakes a negative at Giles when Buffy's not looking.

"We went to the factory to kill the Master," Buffy continues. "I did okay until I made eye contact with the Master. Before I could to over there and give him my wooden greetings, I was in the woods with some cute guy electrocuting me." Her head pops up. "Maybe this is a dream."

Giles look with mild panic at angel, "You're right, it's worse."

Angel gives kicked puppy eyes at Buffy, "You think he's cute?"

Giles blinks, "Oh dear." After a moment, he offers, "I think I might have a lead on what's happened here."

Buffy and Angel reluctantly tear their eyes away from each other to Giles.

Giles waves in the direction of the phone. "I'm going to call Anya and ask her about that alternate dimension she wanted to get back to so badly. If Willow's duplicate can be magicked here, maybe Buffy's got magicked here as well, somehow." Giles rolls his eyes high, thinking. "I'd better call Willow, too. Maybe she's been overreaching herself again."

Angel puts up a hand, stalling Giles, "It's Buffy's body. This dimension's Buffy, I mean."

Giles squints curious eyes at Angel. "How do you know . . .?" Pauses as graphic images pose possibilities in his head. "Wait. Don't answer that."

Angel chastises Giles for his overactive mind with a look of detached amusement. "Riley was kissing Buffy just a minute before he shot her. He knew right away something was different about her."

Buffy, now convinced this is all a bizzaro dream, say cheerily, "I saw me kissing him, too. Hey, what happened to him?" she asks Angel.

Giles takes this opportunity to depart to make his calls to Anya and Willow.

Angel wonders irritably if that's concern he hears in her voice. "I made him sleepy."

Buffy grins and Angel seats himself beside her looking smugly pleased with himself.

Buffy cocks her head to the side, asking, "If I'm from this 'alternate dimension', why did the blond know I wasn't his Buffy and you didn't?"

"He knows Buffy's heart. This reality has shaped her into a person who loves easily – a Buffy with certain kinds of beliefs and ways of doing things. He loves the person she's grown into.' Angel pauses dramatically. "I know your soul." His gaze counts each colored fleck in her irises. "I know its width, its length and depth. I know the taste of it. Your soul resonates within me the same. No matter your life experiences, you are Buffy and your soul is one unique soul."

Buffy's lips part in tender joy and she gazes at Angel with kitten-eyed wonder.

Giles re-enters the room and clears his throat.

*

High up in a tree in an unabandoned cemetery, the first tendrils of consciousness creep over Riley's pulverized being. He moans around a leafy branch and puts a hand to his green-stained forehead. Riley forces his eyes open to process his surroundings.

"A tree," Riley comments dully. "I'm in a tree."

He flashes back to Angel kicking him. Remembers the pain in his gut, the sensation of his feet leaving the solid ground. Then, a blank. Riley feels the back of his throbbing skull. His hand returns to him a brilliant red color.

"Oh yeah," Anguish suddenly twists Riley's face. Buffy, something had happened to Buffy. He'd failed her again. Unwanted tears press against swollen lids. Riley closes his eyes for a moment. "You can't help her up here, soldier," he barks at himself. Pressing a hand against the knifing pain in his ribs, Riley forces himself to climb down through clinging branches to solid earth.

*

Goosebumps form on Giles arms as the attraction between Buffy and Angel creates an electromagnetic field. An early warning system beeps frantically through Giles' brain. He clears his throat again with mighty phlegm reverberations. "They'll be here shortly," he announces in booming tones. When neither of the moonstruck victims respond, Giles roll exasperated orbs. "Angel?" Giles interjects quietly.

Giles' soft, serious tone gains Angel's attention. Angel tears a clinging gaze away from Buffy.

Giles returns Angel's look with empathy, but doesn't pull his blow. "What are you doing?" Giles asks pointing his eyes from Angel to Buffy.

Angel stiffens and drops his eyes. Warring with himself, he whips his conscience into doing the right thing. Angel angles his body posture away from Buffy. He sets his eyes somewhere around her left cheekbone and puts a polite smile on his face, while his heart weeps.

It is then that Buffy understands that this is no dream.

*

Graham bandages Riley's ribs. Riley babbles half coherently about the events leading up to his current condition.

"She was looking at Angel and me and then Buffy staggered like something hit her. She looked at me with different eyes. It wasn't her. So I zapped her with my gun in order to neutralize her."

Graham pauses his ministrations, hands hover midair, mid-wrap. "You zapped her with the gun?" he asks in disbelief.

"Not full strength," Riley defends himself. Waves his hand in dismissal. "Anyway, Angel gets all vamp-faced and growls 'Don't touch her.' Then he knocks me out."

Graham raises eyebrows at Riley, noting pieces of shrubbery in Riley's hair. Perhaps Riley has given an incomplete rendering of the story. Graham shrugs and ties off the bandage.

Riley stops ranting long enough to earnestly direct a fearful question Graham-ward, "Do you think she's somehow been demon-possessed?" Riley's head jerks as a thought strikes him, "Or Faith possessed?" Riley doesn't wait for Graham to answer. Riley continues, "I have to talk to Willow. And Giles!" Riley suddenly bolts limping from the room.

Graham talks to his reflection in the mirror since no one else will listen, "Faith possessed?"

*

No, this is no quirky, elaborate dream. Rejection like this comes only in that wonderful existence called reality. Buffy's eyes cloud over with hurt momentarily before a familiar bitter twist places itself on her mouth. She gives both males a cold look and opens her mouth to give them her opinion of their ancestors when a knock sounds on the door. The two men look frantically relieved and Giles rushes over to receive the visitors.

Buffy makes a mocking, 'yes, run away, little man,' gesture behind Giles' back.

Anya, Willow and Xander join the happy gathering.

Xander buzzes, "Hey Giles, what's the big whoop?" He sees Angel on the couch with Buffy. "Oh."

Concerned with the crisis at hand, Giles smiles at Anya and Willow and hustles them inside. He begins, "Anya, Willow, maybe you can answer some questions for us."

Xander holds up an offended hand, "Wait a minute. The _girls_ get smiles and hellos. And I don't even get looked at." He slaps his chest with a hand.

Giles sniffs dismissively, "I looked."

Xander wobbles an unsteady feeling. "Hello, Cordelia! Who made you her post- decessor?"

Giles looks at him quizzically, "Were you invited?"

Xander, "Awk!"

"Feeble, Xander," critiques Willow, "not a cohesive or situationally relevant comeback."

Xander looks hunted, "But, but it's Giles," pointing both hands wildly at Giles. "I was taken unaware!" Xander insists in his defense. A thought occurs to Xander and he swings accusational eyes Giles' way, "Or is it Giles?" Xander wonders in sinister tones. He points a judgmental finger. "No fair getting demon-possessed without telling us!"

Buffy puts a splayed hand over her eyebrows, covering the sight of everyone, muttering miserable, "And I'm stuck here, in the twilight zone, with no one sane to talk to."

"I'll be sane," Willow volunteers bouncily.

"There are sane people, here," Xander defends, "Just not in this room."

Buffy shakes her head disbelievingly, "No one here is sane." Buffy peers closely at Willow. "You look familiar."

A worried frown puckers Willow's brow as a high note squeaks from her larynx. "Giles!?"

"I know. The fuzzy purple trim t-shirt threw me for a second. You were in black leather." Buffy gets a placed-that-face satisfied expression. She adds, "And very pale skin."

Now Buffy gets everyone's attention.

"Oh man," breathes Xander. Turns to Giles, "Okay, I forgive you your

desperately needed, stress-reducing Xander bashing."

Willow looks around, "So where is our Buffy?"

Giles answers grimly, "I think she's in her dimension," pointing to Buffy.

Buffy ignores him, looking at Xander, "You were pretty much in black leather and pale skin, too." Turns to Giles, "You were the same, except your digs were better."

Riley charges into the open door. He doesn't see Buffy by the couch. "Giles!" Riley wheezes, resting his hands on his knees. Giles looks around for that sharp letter opener. His eyes light eagerly when he spies it by the phone. Trying to catch his breath through aching ribs, Riley says, "Giles, I think that something horrible has possessed Buffy's body!"

A rhythmic slapping halts Riley's explanation. He pulls his gaze upward to see Buffy slinking toward him, while her hand slaps a stake against her leg. "That's not a very nice thing to say about someone behind their back," Buffy pouts insincerely, with venom in her tone.

Riley examines her hopefully, "Buffy?"

Buffy's hair is still surrounding her head like a deranged halo. Riley does a double take at it, distracted, "Your hair."

Buffy glances over at the mirror, sees her wild-haired reflection, "Yeah, so?"

Riley's face falls, he gestures at her for the others. "See, it's not her," Riley crouches into a fighting stance, rage on his face. "What have you done to Buffy?" he growls.

Buffy steps eagerly into a ready position. Battle-ready fire roars in her eyes.

Willow rushes to get in between them. "Riley, it _is_ Buffy."

Riley vehemently begins to deny it, when Willow holds up an authoritative hand, "She's not our Buffy, but she is Buffy."

Riley's face goes, "Huh?""

Buffy's unrelieved adrenalin high leaves her aching to punch something. She jams fists on hips then gestures with stake hand. "Why did you do that? I could've taken him down in a second."

Willow gives a matter of face nod, "I know."

Riley snaps an offended chin her way and opens his mouth to protest.

Giles rubs worried eyes and agrees, "It's true."

Riley feels even more insulted and starts to defend his fighting skills when Giles continues, "She's Buffy from another dimension. We think her mind got switched with her double's. We don't know why."

Riley stares at Giles, bewildered, no longer trying to say anything at all.

Buffy smugly revels in Riley's confusion until something odd strikes her. She looks at each individual in turn as she names them. "Willow, Xander and Anya. Wasn't that the name of some demon whose power thingy Giles had to destroy?"

"Yes," Anya admits easily, "That's me. He did."

Giles confused, "I did?"

"Not you," Anya corrects, "The other Giles."

Giles mumbles, "Oh."

Buffy asks Anya, "Why are you here?"

Anya answers, "Well, I became a mortal when my powers were taken. I'm a good guy now."

Buffy shakes brain clear of the extraneous babble, "Okay, but what I meant was – Why aren't you on my world? You had to have been there when Giles defeated you. Why are you here?"

"Oh," Anya responds, "That's not a real world. It's an alternate reality that was created when I granted a wish. It really should have vanished when the necklace was destroyed."

Everyone looks at her.

Xander points out, "You never told us this."

"Well, I told Giles, Willow and Buffy some of it. You really didn't seem curious about it."

Giles interrupts, "You told us that the alternate dimension was created because of the wish. That it ceased to exist at the precise moment your power center was broken."

Anya shrugs, "When I tried to reopen the alternate timeline to get my necklace back it must have changed the parameters of that reality bubble." She pauses, "Or. . ."

"What?"

Anya ruminates, "Or it's just like I said. There is no future in that dimension beyond the breaking of my power center." Anya turns to Buffy, "What year was it in your reality?"

Buffy supplies, "1998," expecting everyone to nod.

Everyone gulps.

Willow's teary voice breaks the silence. "So Buffy's just gone?"

"Why, what year is it here?" Buffy asks.

She is ignored.

Anya pats Willow's hand, "Now don't panic. We have to know why Buffy was switched with her double before jumping to conclusions."

Giles rallies, "Anya is right." He turns to her. "Maybe something about Cordelia's wish echoed. What was it exactly?"

Anya with whine in her voice protests, "But client confidentiallity!

Giles replies with cold logic, "The Cordelia who had that wish granted is dead, you don't have to keep her confidence."

"Oh, all right," Anya huffs. "She wished that Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale."

Silence greets that statement, then there's an explosion of voices over which Giles shouts, "Why on earth would she wish that? Buffy saved Cordelia's life countless times!"

Anya shrugs, "She didn't know her wish would be granted. That was the fun."

The people stare at her, sickened. Anya crosses her arms in front of her self defensively. "Well I _was_ a demon."

Riley finally finds his voice, "Okay, I can accept that this is some other Buffy." He points violently toward Angel. "What's that doing here?"

Angel answers evenly, "I'm here to save Buffy."

Riley snides, "Can you say late much?"

Buffy narrows her eyes at Riley, saying aside, "I really don't like him."

Giles glances at her, startled. He remembers his Buffy saying those exact words about Angel. And then she fell in love with him.

Angel keeps a calm demeanor the better to show Riley up for a twit, "This wasn't the danger Cordelia had a vision of."

"And maybe she's vision impaired!" Riley bites off. He points to Buffy, "The real Buffy isn't even here to be endangered. We have her instead."

Buffy looks soulfully at Willow and Giles, "Can't I hurt him just a little?" She nods with wide-eyed innocence. "It won't take long."

Riley glares, Angel smirks and Willow smiles conciliatorily, "Big picture? How are we going to get them back to their true bodies?"

Giles puts up a forefinger. "I think we should hold off attempting that."

Willow and Riley shout, "What?!"

Angel snaps his gaze to Giles as understanding dawns, "Of course," Angel breathes.

Giles nods at Angel, quoting, ". . . and the Slayer shall confront the Master, and she shall die."

"I'd have kicked his pig-faced butt," insists Buffy.

Giles ignores her. "If that dimension ceases to exist when I crush Anya's necklace, then it is already too late to save her. But if an echo effect of some kind has caused it to reappear, our Buffy will be needed there. She has already faced the Master and died, fulfilling the prophecy. She has a chance to defeat him." Giles angles his head in Buffy's direction. "This Buffy has not. I cannot sanction sending someone to a sure death."

Buffy frowns, "Wait. She died? She's like, a good vampire or something?" She points to Angel, "Like this one seems to be?" Distracted, she asks him, "Why are you a good vampire?"

Amused by her skipping conversation pattern, Angel smiles, "Gypsies cursed me with the return of my soul."

"Bummer," Buffy commiserates, "Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned stake through the heart for one's vengeance?"

Riley raises a hand, "I second that. Need a favor, O Suffering One?"

"You. Gone." Angel deadpans.

Giles interrupts, "It should just be a day or two. We can research what we need to attempt a Buffy switch. We must be very, very sure before we do any spells."

Xander agrees, "Yeah, yeah. Consequences could be adverse. A Buffy with two heads, for example." He nods with the wisdom of bad spell side effects experience.

Buffy shoots him a look of disgust for the unwanted mental picture.

"But hey! Bright side – two heads are better than one," he jokes.

Buffy replies with fake sugar, "Let's do a spell and see if you like it."

Xander gulps in discomfort at her uncharacteristic causticness, then rallies, "Hey, I'd like two. . ."

Giles hurriedly interrupts, "In answer to your question, Buffy. No this realm's Buffy is not a vampire. She drowned, but was resuscitated by Xander, there."

As payback for Buffy's sarcasm, Xander plays up his mighty deed, "Yes, I brought her back from the dead with just the use of my talented hands and mouth."

Buffy dryly, "Her hero."

Anya puts in her bit, "I can vouch for his talent."

Buffy stares at Anya in momentary disbelief then turns desperately to Giles, "Let's do the switch now, I'm ready to die."

Angel quietly breaks in, "I was there."

Buffy grimaces, switching her gaze between Xander and Anya. She looks back at Angel, disturbed. "What, you were watching them?"

"No!" Angel corrects with a grimace of his own. "I was there when Xander saved Buffy, I mean. I figured Buffy was gone, but he just wouldn't give up on you." Angel glances at Xander who eyes him suspiciously, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "So the same things that make him so annoying – like a leech or a dog that just won't let go – also make him too stubborn admit defeat."

Riley remarks, "So you stood there and watched, telling him that it was too late. You were both hopeless _and_ useless."

Giles sighs mentally at their sniping.

Willow tries to play peacemaker by rerouting the subject. "Angel, if you're here to save Buffy from something that's not this, what's she in danger from?"

Angel takes hard eyes off of Riley long enough to respond, "Cordelia had a vision of Buffy in danger from some winged demon."

Giles asks confused, "Cordelia?" Then his eyes light up as professional interest sparks, "A winged demon, you say? I don't recall one of those in my recent studies." Giles hums to himself, running through demon categories in his head. "Must be foreign."

The gang stares pointedly at Giles. He coughs, "Yes, well. . ." his voice trails off as he notices Buffy's face go stiff with fear.

She whispers, "A winged demon?" She has everyone's attention. "Was it just winged," Buffy demands of Angel, "Or could it actually fly?"

Riley spouts, "Why would it have wings if it didn't fly?"

Buffy replies scathingly, "Oh, I don't know; got your head in the sand much, Rolley?"

Angel grins and grins like a kid with his first lollipop. He sobers as Buffy's eyes go back to him. She states, "'If it can fly, we've got a problem."

Angel nods, "It can."

Giles asks, "Why a problem?"

Buffy supplies, "If it's the same one I've face before, its claws are venomous." Her tongue tip touches her now flawless upper lip. She continues, "Though it's nocturnal, it can come out in the day." Buffy's face screw up in memory. "Uglier that sin." The skin on her back twitches involuntarily. "And the fact that it can attack you from above requires an interesting shift in tactics."

"I say," Giles mentions with a new toy happy glow on his face, "it's rather fortuitous that you're here."

Xander pipes in, "Yeah our Buffy takes care of your problem, you take care of her problem." He looks at Angel. "You really weren't needed, dead boy." Riley and Xander exchange smug grins.

Giles chooses to ignore the byplay, "We've never come across anything like this before. How do we eliminate it?" He looks at Buffy with double 'e' eyes. Eager and expectant.

"The best tactic," Buffy instructs, "is to run like hell and keep running. Find some place it can't fly into, claw its way into or shoot its way into. . ."

Riley interrupts, "What does it shoot?"

"Bullets."

Angel doesn't try very hard for a mature mien in face of Buffy's Riley bashing.

Buffy looks at them without laughter. "And then you pray that someone else worth eating comes by; easier prey; so that you can get out of its radar while it's distracted by lunch." Her eyes close as memories pull her back to the past.

*

Buffy slams shut and locks the warehouse door. Blood streams from a wound on her upper lip. She sits and hugs her knees, crying and rocking. Her back blazes with five lines of fire. A repeating sound of metal on metal screeching echoes in the warehouse. The winged demon tests the walls, the roof, the doors, trying to find a way in.

*

Willow ventures, "Um, that's a little less proactive than we generally like."

Giles tries to get to the meat of the problem, "What kind of demon is it?"

Buffy circles her head down and around impatiently, "The flying kind!"

Giles clarifies, "I mean, what did you find out when it was researched? What is it called?"

"Research?!" Buffy exclaims defensively, "I am too busy battling evil to poke my nose around in books."

Willow and Xander exchange a horrified glance. Eager to stop a Giles lecture, Xander feigns an excited face. "So, research!"

But Giles is not to be stopped, "And I suppose your Watcher was illiterate, too," he begins coldly.

Willow grasps a pen and paper from her backpack with preternatural speed. She also attempts to thwart the dreaded lecture. "Yeah! Research!" She turns to Buffy. "Describe its habits and appearance as accurately as you can."

Sadly, Buffy does not catch the group's air of desperation and responds to Giles' cutting remark with exasperation, "She was busy battling evil, too. Every capacitated human was busy battling evil." Buffy waves toward Willow's pen and paper. "What is the point of this?"

Willow and Xander wince.

Giles speaks slowly and clearly, so that Buffy can understand every word, "We're going to find out what it is. We're going to look up the section of reference that's labeled 'How to kill this demon' and highlight it for anyone who might want to read it," he gives Buffy a pointed glare, "instead of dying of ignorance."

A subdued Buffy allows quietly, "Point taken."

Xander whispers to Willow, "She really _is_ different."

Willow nods, "Our Buffy would have had him on the verbal ropes with sheer, repetitive illogic."

After Buffy describes the demon in detail, Giles flips through some nearby books and passes each person a likely candidate.

Riley sidles over to Xander. "Dead boy?" he questions.

Xander intones, "My tender little endearment for him. Bugs the hell out of him."

Riley grins, "Good to know."

*

The following day, Willow shouts with triumph.

Xander pouts with envy, "Why is it always you who gets the eureka moment?"

Willow smiles smugly, "Maybe because I read twice as fast as you. I have twice the chance to find it."

Xander protests, "But these are pictures we're looking through."

Willow nods wisely, "I know. Sad, isn't it?"

Xander doesn't get it, so he shifts and pretends offense with a noncommittal 'hmmph.'

Buffy walks over and nods while touching the illustration. "That's my little pet, all right."

Giles walks over and snatches the book, he reads, " 'Its hide is strong like bronze armor. Its claw drip with poison. . ." he reads silently a moment, before continuing, " 'its only vulnerabilities are its eyes, when open, and its fragile wing bones. . .'" Giles looks up grimly, "This is not going to be easy. Even if we manage somehow to render it flightless, keeping away from its claws while trying to stab an eye or penetrate its hide will be a serious challenge."

Angel points, "And _that's _why I'm here."

Riley insists, "Here where you're not needed," adds significantly, "or wanted."

Xander pipes up with helpful corroboration, "Yeah, my dad owns a chainsaw." He grins, adding, "Diamond toothed."

Buffy suddenly can't imagine what fault she ever saw in Xander. There is no one more wonderful! Her eyes light up and a sigh of dreamy wonder escapes her lips, "Mental picture extreme," she breathes as the terrified demon waggles stumpy body parts in her day dream. "I like it. And diamond weapons are a girl's best friend." Buffy jumps up enthusiastically. "This calls for a little bit of creative technique in battle training. Who's game?" she enthuses, expecting a show of hands.

Giles sighs. A Watcher's work is never done. "Xander, go get it. I'll develop some," he winces in regret, missing good old-fashioned swords and crossbows, "chainsaw fighting tactics."

Xander grins jauntily, saying as he walks out the door, "It'll be a massacre."

Everyone groans and Willow throws a book at him.

"Meanwhile," Giles suggests to Buffy, "You might as well get a workout in. Either Riley or Angel here can help keep you in fighting trim."

Angel and Riley look at him, aghast.

Xander stops in his tracks and does a one-eighty, "Oh, I'm staying for this."

Buffy strikes a pose with a feral grin on her face. She looks at Angel, then Riley. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

Giles leans back in his chair and slowly stretches his hands behind his head. He shoots the two victims a smile that is pure evil.

Willow sidles over to Xander with a worried expression, "Maybe he _is_ possessed."

Xander nods vigorously, nervously sucking his bottom lip into his oral cavity.

*

The gang gathers around the three warriors in a nearby back lot. Buffy is shadow-sparring and limbering up while Angel and Riley look on helplessly. After a shiny glow graces her skin, Buffy gives a come-hither gesture with both hands.

Riley glances toward Angel. Angel angles his head toward Buffy generously, "You first."

Riley flashes him a fake, cold smile. "Gee, thanks."

Giles rolls his eyes, muttering, "Lord, what fools these testosterone flooded males can be."

Riley grabs a stick from his pocket.

"Ah, ah, ah," Buffy waggles a finger, "No toys. Just you and me. Mano y Slayer."

Riley shrugs, resheaths his stick and attacks. His chin meets Buffy's fist and he falls, painfully.

Buffy looks at him in disbelief, "That's it?"

Riley clenches an angry jaw. Buffy dismisses him with a shrug and faces Angel. "Your turn, Angel. I'm still waiting for my workout."

Angel avoids the direct approach, but Buffy leg blocks his sweeping foot. It takes her ten moves instead of one, but in the end, "Poof, you're re-dead." Buffy smiles smugly, "Having a soul has made you soft."

Giles heaves a mighty sigh, "If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself." He sniffs dismissively at the defeated. Giles makes an exaggerated display of stretching stiff muscles and inflexible joints while Buffy looks on in disbelief.

"Okay," Giles nods with a final, one inch calf stretch. He takes a ready position. His expression is bucolic, but Buffy hasn't known him long enough to recognize the implacable set to his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding!" Buffy exclaims.

Most of the gang is tense with fear for Giles' body and dignity, but Anya gets a smirk of anticipation.

"He's gonna die," gulps Xander.

"What is he thinking?" wonders Willow aloud.

Anya frowns at them, "You have no idea, do you?"

"What?"

"Giles isn't stupid. Obviously, Buffy-not is about to get her ass kicked," Anya supplies as if to people of substandard IQ.

Angel and Riley perk their ears at her comment, but both turn to watch Giles' eminent demolishment.

"He can't beat Buffy," Xander protests, pointing.

"A wager," Anya suggests. "Giles will come out the winner. He's obviously got a plan."

"For sexual favours?" Xander inquires hopefully.

"For money, of course," scoffs Anya. "I can get sexual favours any time."

"Oh, all right," pouts Xander.

Angel nods to himself. Anya has a point. Giles would never have done this without a having a very good reason to believe he could give Buffy the lesson she needs. Now it was just a matter of seeing if his plan works.

Buffy finally stops protesting and shrugs. A gentle knock-out blow should settle the argument and then they could get back to defeating evil.

Buffy thrusts forward with a punch too quick for Giles to react to, but he is already moving as her foot twitches, telegraphing her decision. Giles left hand goes over her wrist, the right hand come up under the elbow and a simple hip pivot on his part sends her soaring feet over knees in the air. Buffy lands with as much force as her would-be blow held. Which means she is fine, if a bit winded. If Giles had tried to hit Buffy, she probably wouldn't even have felt the blow. As it is, well, leverage is a wonderful thing.

Though everyone else is silent with surprise, and in some cases, restrained glee, Anya cheers, "Way to go, Giles!" She turns to Xander. "I won. Give me my money."

Xander hands her a nickel. Anya glares at the paltry amount.

The cheer pisses Buffy off. Giles had been counting on that. Buffy lets go with a kick so powerful it could snap Giles' neck if it lands just right. It doesn't land at all. Giles' upswept arm flings the leg in a continuing rotation. Buffy is flipped over to land with a whoomph on her front, chin taking the rebound of the blow. She glares a dusty face at Giles. Again, her own momentum is what causes the painful blow. Convinced he's not human, Buffy wrenches a metal bar from the grillwork of a junk heap.

Giles questions dryly, "What happened to 'Mano y Slayer'?"

"That's only when I'm winning," Buffy declares without remorse.

Giles inclines his head with a quirk of approval on his lips, "Fair enough." He grabs a staff leaning conveniently behind a tree.

Buffy narrow her eyes in pique. His staff is bigger than her rod. 'On the other hand,' Buffy smiles to herself. 'his is made of wood and mine is made of iron. I'll bust his little stick in half with my first blow.' She goes about making that happen. Buffy strikes his weapon down the middle. Indeed it breaks in half. Buffy is busy rejoicing when the jagged end of one of those halves jabs her in the solar plexus, taking away all ability to move. Splinters mark her skin.

Riley turns to angel in a moment of camaraderie, "Maybe Giles _is_ demon-possessed."

Angel has no comment. He's castigating himself for ever doubting Giles' abilities for a second. Angel knows first hand as himself and as Angelus, just how tough Giles can be.

Although Giles can't deliver a mighty blow; being merely human, a love tap will do when it's in the solar plexus. Buffy goes to her knees, gagging with the shock to her body's system.

Giles doesn't take advantage of her incapacitation. He merely leans lazily on his staff like a Christmas shepherd.

Giles puckers his brow. He was hoping she'd figure it out on her own.

"Buffy," he begins, "I've been your Watcher for years."

Buffy denies vehemently, "Not mine."

Giles waves away her words impatiently, "You're the same person with the same habits and martial weakness. Weaknesses I've trained out of this dimension's Buffy. Mostly."

"You're saying it's my Watcher's fault?" Buffy queries uneasily.

Giles replies, "Her fault that you have weaknesses? Or that you're both so busy battling evil you don't even have time to research a demon that defeated you?"

"You're going to harp on that every chance you get, aren't you?" Buffy suddenly grins. Life is too short to hold grudges. Especially where she is from. Still, she can't help herself. She throws a sidearm comment to Angel and Riley. "So, an old man can defeat me and you two can't even get a hit between the two of you."

Giles had so been hoping that Buffy would say or do something stupid. With dramatic effrontery, Giles exclaims in an outraged voice, "Old man!" He tosses Angel and Riley one each of the broken staff halves. "You are welcome to pummel the ever-loving arrogance right out of her!" Giles expression says, 'In fact, I demand it.'

Angel let's the weapon land easily in his fingers. Riley snatches it mid air and makes the air sing with a few fast whirls.

Angel's eyes meet Riley's in perfect understanding. They attack in tandem. Buffy can't keep up with both of them. Each defensive or offensive move against one of them, leaves a split second opening for the other to take advantage of.

Buffy grits her teeth and digs deep down inside for that extra bit of fighting magic. Her hands and feet become a blur to the human eye. Buffy's gymnastic twists and kicks make it seem like gravity is only an option for her. It doesn't stop the inevitable.

Riley lassoes her balancing leg with some rope from his pocket while she is in mid-kick. Angel staggers from the blow as Buffy goes down hard on her side as Riley pulls the line taut. She struggles to get back on her feet, but a rope tossed from Riley to Angel wraps itself around her opposing wrist, courtesy of Angel. Riley and Angel speed backward in opposing direction, leaving Buffy with only one leg to stand on. Riley winds his rope around a tree. Angel holds his rope tight, stretching Buffy's arm as far from her body as he can. Walking toward Buffy, Riley pulls some titanium alloy handcuffs from his pocket. Government issue handcuffs forged for those pesky superstrength criminals.

Buffy gets in a few good whacks to Riley's face and chest before Riley manages to catch her free hand and cuff it to her belt loop. She could break it, but would the humiliation of losing her pants be worth it to her? Buffy glares balefully at him.

Angel gives Riley a pointed look. "Anything else I should know about in those pockets, Mary Poppins"

Riley gives him a startled look. In fact, everyone peers at him a little strangely.

"What?" Angel deadpans. "I like Disney movies as much as the next demon."

Willow's chin tucks in as she ponders that statement. She whispers to Xander, "Am I the only one who finds that really disturbing?"

Xander rotates his neck laterally, with disturbed written all over him.

Giles claps his hands with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Out of his mouth come the words, "Now that we know that you two can work together when necessary," Giles targets Angel and Riley with significant irony, "how about we work together on killing the winged demon coming to town?"

While Riley stands in stunned realization at Giles's ingenious gall, Angel closes his eyes in profound mortification. Giles had played them all every step of the way and Angel had been oblivious until the obvious smacks him upside the head. Even straight forward, can't-get-a-lie right to save her life Anya had figured out Giles was manipulating circumstances. 'Well,' Angel consoles himself, Anya is a lot older than I. Been around, seen strategies that makes Giles' look like schoolyard pranks.' Angel wonders if he's kidding himself.

Riley moves to uncuff and untie Buffy. Giles walks forward and places a restraining arm across Riley's chest. Riley stifles a protest. The gentleman in him winces at the helpless picture Buffy makes. She looks kind of like an S and M ballerina victim. It isn't pretty. Angel thinks Buffy looks rather delectable. He forces fangs to retract by doing time tables in his head.

"Why did I defeat you?" Giles questions her.

Buffy answers with a grumpy pout face. "You know my weaknesses."

Giles corrects, "That's why I knew how to beat you. Why did you lose the fight?"

Buffy leans back into the ropes, intrigued and thinks out loud, "You surprised me."

Giles beams, "Exactly. I surprised you. You were expecting a different battle. You didn't prepare for the unexpected. So, I defeated you how?"

"I defeated myself." Buffy realizes.

Giles is amazed. "I thought I'd have to give you a few more lessons before you reached that conclusion. Now why did Riley and Angel defeat you?"

Buffy answers with smug certainty, "They didn't. I defeated myself."

Giles lifts his brow, "No, they pretty much managed to defeat you without your help."

Xander cringes, "This is painful to watch."

"And boring," Anya adds.

Willow ventures, "Do you think he'd notice if we snuck over and cut the rope so she could at least put her leg down?"

Xander shakes his head strongly negative, "I think that the position is helping her to think about what Giles is saying."

"You said it was painful to watch," Willow protests.

Xander chuckles, "I was talking about the fact that Giles is ragging on somebody else about the consequences of their actions instead of me."

Willow nods in understanding, "It's hard being a witness to these things. I think I'd rather be the target of his wrath than watch you suffer."

Xander says wisely, "You really wouldn't. Besides, you never do anything stupid."

Anya interrupts, "Let's just go get that chainsaw, Xander."

Xander brightens, his eyebrows raising, "That's right. I don't have to stay here all uncomfortable. I have important demon fighting errand running to do.

As they turn away, Willow hears Anya asking Xander, "Did I ever tell you about the wish I granted where this lady who bore five children for this philanderer wished that a chainsaw. . ."

Distance mercifully cut short her tale while Willow is left there imagining several gruesome endings to Anya's anecdote. 'Poor Xander,' Willow thinks, 'I don't know how he stands it.'

Giles drones on. Willow wonders if Tara needs help studying for her summer classes.

"Now," Giles pontificates to Buffy who still looks like a 't' cut off at the knees. "How do you get out of this?"

Buffy answers sarcastically, "Well, I'd chew my arm off, but I can't reach it."

Giles shakes his head, "There is a solution. You just have to find it."

Buffy pouts, "You're just saying that to make me feel stupider."

Willow says aloud, as if just receiving a revelation, "Oh! Buffy needs to raise her planted foot to shove off the boot with the rope around it. She might scrape a little skin, but she'd have the use of both legs again. The better to kick their asses with."

"Or," Buffy says.

While they're thinking about Willow's solution, Buffy makes her move. She twists her hand, grabbing the rope around her wrist. Using her hip joint as a fulcrum, Buffy yanks the rope held by Angel toward her and up while lower back and butt muscles strain to move her bound leg in a downward motion. It works well. Angel is unprepared. With the rope slack, Buffy is able to hop back and place her aching leg down. Only Angel is still airborne. Buffy ducks to the side, but Angel flings an arm to break his fall. It sends him whipping around to fall on his back with Buffy landing on top of him. Buffy pushes cuffed hands on Angel's chest which moves her in a straddling position. Angel sees her there above him and his eyes turn electric. The grass around them bows away from their bodies.

Giles comments, "Not exactly what I had in mind."

Buffy scrambles to her feet, tripping on rope attached to her and the tree.

"That works, too." Willow says mildly.

Buffy sneers at Giles, "What? You thought I should shuck my boot off? Angel would have had me swinging on the end of his rope. I dismissed that idea in the first ten seconds."

Giles does his best not to look chagrined.

Buffy twists the knife, "Thanks for the pep talk, though." She sits down to remove the rope from her boot. "It kept everybody busy while I came up with an idea that worked."

Giles, "Um."

Angel still lay on his back, struggling to control fangs and other expanding features.

"What now, teach?" Buffy asks with slight derogatory, but mostly respectful tones.

Giles gets ahold of himself, "I'll contact a few sources I have. Maybe they'll spot this demon and give us a head's up when it's within killing distance."

Buffy nods, "Groovy."

Angel gets painfully to his feet. Riley smirks at him. Angel opens mouth to retort. Giles sees, "Am I going to have to separate you boys?"

They subside with inner pouting.

Giles returns attention to Buffy "Meanwhile, we'll do a bit of training."

Willow prompts, "And. . ."

Giles confused, "And what?"

"It might be a good idea to let her know some of the future threats to her world and Sunnydale. For when she goes back." Willow points out.

Angel moues in a way that is still masculine, "The mayor. . ."

"Adam," Riley adds, "And the sacrifice of three. Assuming our Buffy gets the Hellmouth closed."

Buffy scoffs, "Gets it closed? Every major power, witch, warlock, demonfighter and the Council have tried to close that thing. The Council revealed to the world's major governments where the demons were coming in hopes that someone would know how to close the damn thing. The president was going to nuke Sunnydale until we told him it wouldn't close the Hellmouth. Probably wouldn't even kill anything but the surviving humans."

Angel questioned, "Did they do a spell to see who opened it?"

Buffy frowns, "I don't know. I mean, revenge is sweet, but we had other issues on our minds."

Angel informs, "The Master opened it."

"The Master I was going to kill?" Buffy asks.

Giles corrects, "Try to kill."

Angel answers, "Yeah. When Buffy killed him on this world, it sealed up the Hellmouth. When she killed me, it sealed up the hell dimension I called forth. It stands to reason that the one who opens it is the key to closing it."

"Yes!" Giles shouts with revelation. "There are other incidences that support that theory also, Angel!"

Buffy clarifies, "So, if I get back there before my double has killed this Master, I should let everyone know the Hellmouth's Achilles heel before I go charging in to end the Master's quasi existence."

Giles smiles, "Probably wise."

"Wiser would be to bring backup." Riley interjects.

"He's right, Buffy," Angel agrees.

Everybody pauses for a moment of détente awe.

Buffy says indignantly, "I brought backup last time I went to go kill the Master."

Angel says, "The other me whom you mentioned was dusted ten seconds into the fight, I imagine. Who else?"

"Um," Buffy pauses. Then she lifts a stake. "I took Mr. Woody. Plus I was wearing vampire bane." She nods smugly. "Any vamp chomping on me is drinking down his own demise."

Willow adds, "Plus the cure."

"Huh?"

Giles says vindicated, "Another victim of research deprivation."

Willow informs gently, "The blood of a Slayer is the cure for vampire bane."

Buffy chokes with frustrated self-disgust, "You mean all that money I spent? The, the stench, the itch. . ."

Giles intones, "If only you'd taken the time. . ."

Willow interrupts his gleeful monologue, "Giles. . ."

He turns his head, "Mmm?"

Willow gestures at Giles, but converses with Buffy, "Yes, under Giles' guidance, Sunnydale Buffy is like a research machine. She can cross reference and. . ."

"What?!" Giles interjects, "More often than not, she pawns it off of us. . ." His voice trails in the face of realizing Willow's point. "Well, no need to belabor the lesson, anymore."

Buffy gives wide, dewy eyes to Willow, "Man, I love you."

Willow smiles, "Everybody does."

Giles acknowledges, "It's true."

Angel and Riley both nod.

"Well," Willow allows, "Anya isn't here."

Buffy jokes, "But does the opinion of an ex-demon really count? I mean, all those centuries of torture and evil are bound to warp a person's judgment."

Riley whispers low so Giles can't hear, "Hear that, dead boy, you warped old demon?"

"Still enough bad in here to take you down. Or have you forgotten, tree boy?"

Giles whips his head toward them.

Angel and Riley immediately mould their faces into studied innocence. Giles is instantly more suspicious. Realizing his mistake, Angel turns his face to mournful. It says, 'I have a soul and it's a terrible burden.'

Giles narrows his eyes and turns back to Buffy. "Until the winged demon shows up, I think we should work on your training in between information sessions about the possible future threats to your dimension."

Buffy cocks her head, "That's all well and good for my world, but what about an ensuing vampboree when Sunnydale becomes a Slayer-free zone?"

When Giles manages to translate Buffy's question he says, "Riley and Angel will patrol for the next few nights."

Angel looks toward the heavens and asks any gypsy souls that may be listening, "Haven't I suffered enough?"

Riley is too busy staring at Buffy to take offense, "Vampboree? It really is Buffy."

Buffy asks Willow, "Is that a word Buffy uses?"

"Not so far," Willow replies, "but it would be. She is very pun-friendly."

Riley is beginning to feel sick to his stomach. "I shot you."

Buffy dryly, "Imprinted indelibly on my nervous system." She gives him a cheering smile, "But hey, I beat you up!"

Riley comments, "Not feeling better. Now I'm not only shooting innocents, but I'm a wimp, too."

Buffy, "Well I'm feeling better and better."

Angel has a grin stuck on his face and it just won't go away.

Giles waves a hand, "Enough. Dawn is coming. Angel, you'd better get out of the sun's way. You and Riley can patrol tonight."

Angel leaves while Giles continues, "Xander should be back at my place shortly with the chainsaw. Let's wait there for him while I work on some fighting scenarios."

Riley suggests, "I'm going to see what I might find useful from the initiative. Maybe we can recruit Graham for some radar sitting." At Giles' questioning look, Riley clarifies, "He'll let us know about any UFO's heading this direction."

Giles nods and the remaining trio head for his apartment.

*

Buffy and Willow are left to their own devices while Giles works on his project. Willow starts filling in the future blanks for Buffy.

"Wait a minute." Buffy stops Willow's monologue, "Who's Faith?"

"Oh, she's another Slayer."

Buffy shakes her head to clear it. "What do you mean another? There's only one."

Willow gives an awkward shift, "Well, when the Master killed Buffy here, another Slayer was called."

"But she was revived," Buffy points out.

Willow shrugs, "I guess it's not the kind of call you can disconnect."

Buffy says with wonder, "Another Slayer. It must be great."

Willow quirks twitching facial muscles, "Actually, with the jealousy, sibling-like rivalry, rage, leaning to the dark side, murder, comas and body swapping; it wasn't so great."

Buffy's head is spinning.

Willow brightens, "Although, when Slayers are on different land masses, everything works great! Double great! Battling enemies on two different fronts. Well, then the evil is upset _and _disturbed."

Buffy face is suppressed emotion stone. "Right. Alone. The Slayer works alone."

"Not at all!" Willow assures with happy joy, joy. "Buffy and us Scoobies work great together. Case in point – Xander saves you, you save the world." Willow raises two fingers. "Or when you grab the big demon who would complete the sacrifice of three and open the Hellmouth again. Riley latches onto you and hoists you out of the pit with his little belt winch while you drag said demon out with you. Again saving the world with sidekick surplus." Willow pokes up a third finger. "Or those she-demons. Man! It took all of us to kill those uglies." Willow puts all her fingers in the air and raises them like tentacles. "Not to mention the big ugly they let out before we destroyed it and the portal closed."

"Man," Buffy sighs, "It's almost easier being post-apocalyptic. No apprehension or pre-guilt about the consequences of failure. Both shoes have already dropped." She shrugs, "Plus, when it comes right down to it, I don't slay well with others. This way, I only have me to worry about."

"Do you?" Willow questions with an intense look on her face. "Worry?"

"Of course I care about the world and all the people in it. I meant it's nice to have only oneself to worry about during a fight," Buffy says defensively.

"I meant," Willow clarifies, "Do you care about keeping yourself safe?"

"I'm not suicidal," Buffy blusters.

"I'm not saying you are." Willow reassures, "it's just; what are you fighting for?"

Buffy straightens her spine. "What is this? Psych 101? I'm proud to be the Slayer, to help humanity."

"I'm not talking about what the Slayer fights for. Every Slayer fights for humanity (minus the occasional rogue). I'm talking about you, Buffy. Who do you go home to? Who do you hang out with that makes your life worth living when you're not slaying?"

Buffy's muscles tense more with each question. "There's always something that needs slaying, daytime or night."

Willow says, "There's also always someone who needs a friend. You can't kill everything that needs killing and you can't befriend everyone, but you can make time in your life for both." Willow smiles gently, "or why bother to fight at all?"

Willow suggests, "Your destiny is going to be cold comfort day after day, month after month. It'll be easy for you to get careless and make that little mistake that ends you. The one that ends your battle. Calling the next Slayer and letting you rest."

Buffy closes her eyes in self-doubt. She remembers her feeling of relief when she believed her war on evil over.

"The Buffy who lives here has incentive to win every fight. Not just to save the world, but incentive to see her loved ones again." Willow gingerly reaches to pat Buffy's arm. "Make time for a few friends ," Willow glances toward the door, "maybe even love."

*

After a few hours of forcing Buffy to memorize the dates and dispatchings of several of Sunnydale's evils, Willow sneaks a glance at the preoccupied Giles. He's mumbling to himself.

"You know what?" Willow announces. "You need a break. Let's blow this Popsicle stand." She nods with surety. "You should take advantage of this Hellmouth free zone while you can."

Buffy gazes at her without comprehension, "But; training and world save-age."

Willow looks back with pity. "Man, you really do need to get out more. My Buffy would say, 'All work and no play makes Buffy lose her punning edge.' Giles is in think mode. We deserve a party break!"

Buffy is carried away, helpless before Willow's enthusiastic momentum.

"Giles!" Willow interrupts his concentration, causing him to jump. "We're going to Buffy's place!"

"What?!" Giles protests, "I need Buffy here!"

Willow adlibs, "Um. I think she should skim through Buffy's diary. Buffy might write down the kinds of details we might have forgotten."

Giles is impressed with the quality of Willow's lie. It was actually feasible. Logical even. Hah! Who was he kidding? If Buffy had details of anything written down, it was her love-life, not her night-life. Still,

"Yes, Willow, why don't you pick that up?" he agrees amiably. Giles watches them go with a hidden smile. That Buffy needed to relax a little. He'd never known anyone wound so tight. Before immediately returning to work, he shudders. "Buffy keeps a diary. I shudder to think."

*

Willow and Buffy are surrounded on all sides. Heart pounding wildly, Buffy looks in all directions for a way out. There is no escape. Buffy swallows a moan of defeat. She knows when she's beaten. There's only one thing left to do. She begins to move to the pulsating music.

Buffy is hesitant at first. It's been years since she last danced. Her body remembers what to do before her mind catches up. Her heartbeat thrums at every pulse point, forcing her body to thrust muscles with the rhythm. At that point, there is no retreat. After one huge, neuron cracking yawn Buffy's dancing parts awaken from hibernation. Her thinking parts fall in thrall to the music.

Sway, thrust, shake, dip; kick, wiggle, swivel hip. As she moves, Buffy realizes that dancing is like Slaying, only without the fear, the death and the mushroom cloud of responsibility. It's, it's exhilarating! It's freedom.

Uncaring of what anyone thinks or personal injury, hers or anyone else's, Buffy explodes to the music. The drum is her voice, the guitar her blood rushing in her veins. Each beat, each thrum is a speaking duet of her body's motion.

If Willow hadn't known Buffy was not herself before, she would know now. Buffy had never danced like that. Willow is a little disturbed by it. She discreetly scans the crowd. Everyone notices, but no one is openly staring. It's too intimate, like watching someone cry or other unpublic acts.

Then Willow grimaces in disgust. One set of eyes doesn't look away. They glow with fascination, jaw dropped open. Spike can't take his eyes off the body pumping blonde. His feet carry him helplessly toward her. His cigarette is flicked into someone's drink as he steps onto the dance floor. Willow frowns fiercely at Spike, willing him to go away. Spike doesn't see, doesn't care. Knowing he faces rejection and possibly a beating, Spike can't help but try to be a part of something so wild, so primal and passionate. It's the very core of his forgotten soul.

Buffy can sense that someone is in her space. Spike matches one move to Buffy's and he's caught in her heartbeat. So attuned is he, he'd swear the heartbeat comes from inside his own chest. If Buffy's fever is the music, Spike's fever is Buffy. They don't flow together so much as refract off one another. A move from one is taken and expanded by the other until limbs and torsos create a flashing battle backdropped by the pounding of the music.

Willow's breath catches as their dance blurs into art. Poised to butt in, Willow doesn't have the inner mean to stop the tableau. For though Buffy's eyes are closed, her whole face is open in relaxed pleasure for the first time since she'd popped into this dimension.

Spike has never been this happy. Not in life, not in death. He and a Slayer create poetry in motion. Buffy isn't beating on him or tearing him down with scathing remarks. But somehow, this is even better, more intimate.

An hour later, the band can't take anymore. The drummer is slick with near-aneuritic sweat. The guitarist has bathed his instrument in blood and the vocalist can only rasp his words. Driven by the energy on the Bronze's dance floor, they've given everything in them, but they're only human. A final blow to the base signals the end of their set.

Buffy stills the instant the music does. Spike, being dead, can stop cold even more easily and eerily. Buffy opens her eyes and sees who she's been gyrating with. She smiles tentatively. "Not bad," Buffy does an unseen double take when she recognizes what he is, "for a dead man."

Spike blinks. Coming from Buffy, that remark is positively glowing with benevolent energy. With her cheeks flushed and bosom heaving, Spike suddenly sees Buffy as more than just a Slayer. A thrilling kill, a tasty meal, yes, but Spike is hit with the spicy thought that there might be something even more thrilling than the killing of a Slayer. A Slayer under one's fangs is a fine thing; a Slayer under one's. . .

Willow does not like the look on Spike's face. Stepping half in between Spike and Buffy, Willow greets him with patent false gladness.

"Spike!" Willow stares threateningly into Spike's eyes as she pulls a sharp pencil from her pocket and absently scratches her scalp with the eraser end. "Too bad you can't stick around."

Spike sneers until Willow lets go of the pencil and it continues moving through her hair on its own. "Yeah, too bad," he remarks with a final lascivious inspection of Buffy's figure. Tossing a hand wave behind him, Spike leaves the building.

"I find it strange that you seem to be on a first name basis with the vampires in this town," Buffy comments. "What, do they all have souls here?"

"No to both," Willow supplies with a brief distasteful twist of the lips. "Spike's just been around here for a while."

Buffy gestures at his exit with disbelief, "Then shouldn't I have dusted him?"

Willow waves a negating wrist, "Nah, it's your night off, remember? Besides, he was rendered impotent by the Initiative."

"Impotent?" Buffy queries. Remembering the fit of his pants, she mumbles, "Didn't look impotent to me."

"Vampirically impotent," Willow stresses.

"What's the Initiative?" Buffy subject changes. "And how did they do it?"

"I'll let Riley fill you in on the details tomorrow," Willow replies. "Night off, remember?"

Buffy forces her shoulders to relax. "Yeah," she smiles. Buffy looks around, "Where's the band?"

Willow grins, "I think you wore them out."

"I didn't go any where near them!"

Willow laughs, "Just watching you dance with Spike wore us all out." She adds with tiny frown, "Not to mention disturbing my parameter sensors outside their norm."

Buffy quirks her lips, "Pansies! C'mon, let's go see what we can do to encourage the band to greater efforts!"

Buffy's sexy tone worries Willow, "Don't forget that you're only borrowing that body, Buffy. This Buffy has to live with your actions."

Buffy displays a pretend pout, "But it's my vacation. I haven't had a date in years, literally." Whine is added for emphasis, "You said I deserve some fun."

Willow sighs, "All right. Just don't – do anything Buffy's going to regret long term."

"Cool!" Buffy perks. She goes to cajole the band to endure bodily harm to themselves in the name of her good time.

Willow trails behind Buffy resignedly. It was her own fault, she was the one who'd given Buffy the take some time off speech.

The band looks on helplessly as Buffy writhes a dance-ready body toward them. Willow can't help a grin of near-commiseration. They don't stand a chance.

*

Hoping his Buffy has returned, Riley returns to Giles' apartment after setting up sky stake-out with Graham.

Giles looks up from his note pad doodles when Riley enters after a perfunctory knock.

"Where's Buffy?" Riley asks.

"I imagine they're at the Bronze." Giles offers sardonically.

Skipping the question of logic, Riley asks, "It's still open?"

"In the summer," Giles supplies, "It's a 24 hour club six days a week."

"Isn't she supposed to be training or something?"

Giles gives Riley their excuse, "Oh, they said they were going to fetch Buffy's diary for Buffy to read."

Xander walks in without knocking, chainsaw over one shoulder. His face falls when he sees only Giles and Riley.

"Where's Willow and Buffyish?" he queries.

"At the Bronze," Giles answers.

"But they said. . ." Riley begins.

Giles gives him a look of exasperation.

"Right." Riley says in belated realization.

Xander lights up. "Cool!" he gestures to Riley, "Let's go!"

"Um." Riley hesitates.

"C'mon," Xander encourages. "Dawn is practically upon us. It just isn't the same if you enter a dance club in daylight hours."

"Okay," Riley agrees reluctantly. He turns to Giles, "Coming?"

"No," Giles shakes his head. "A plausible lie that I can pretend to believe is one thing. If I show up, they'll have to think of something to say to explain their presence there. An out and out bouncer is beneath my dignity to swallow."

"Right then," Riley and Xander head to the Bronze.

*

Riley and Xander freeze in synchronicity just inside the Bronze entrance. Their eyes dilate as their brains try to comprehend the scene on the dance floor.

"If I didn't guess before that she wasn't our Buffy. . ." Xander begins.

"You'd know now," Riley finishes for him.

Xander nods numbly.

The band was taking a heart palpitation break and the d.j. spins to a packed dance floor. Packed because friends had called friends in town and out of town to be at the hot spot of the year. Buffy is on fire.

Xander scans the crowd for Willow. She is hanging limply at a table near the floor. She waves a weak arm when he catches her eye.

Seeing Buffy swing from one partner to the next, slamming her body around like a handball, Riley turns panicked eyes to Xander.

Xander beams a huge grin at him. Xander loves a good bit of R and R. "I guess Slayers really do have more fun."

"What do we do?" Riley chokes out.

Xander is already a flame directed moth. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to _dance_!"

Riley is left abandoned and stunned as he watches Xander boogie his way to Buffy's side. Buffy looks up, laughing in a relaxed high. She greets him with laughter and hugs. Xander's face flushes with embarrassed pleasure.

Buffy asks saucily, "Come to take a turn, Mr Chainsaw?"

Xander retaliates with dire tones, "Buffy, you have met your dancing match." He puts two fingers up behind his head and waggles them. "No one outlasts the bunny."

Buffy laughs so hard she snorts. "Xander, you are a very funny man."

Xander's spine straightens with goofy pride at being called a man. With many body posing flourishes, he extends a bopping hand, "Milady?"

Buffy smiles and places her hand in his, "Kind sir." She is promptly dipped and whirled in beat to the music. The crowd roars and starts to place bets on who will drop from exhaustion first.

There would be no losers.

Riley makes his way over to Willow. He sits down heavily. Willow gives him a bleary smile.

"You don't dance?" he queries.

Willow shakes her head. "Oh, I dance, but my legs gave out an hour ago. I'm five hours past my bedtime. Plus, I think I've acquired a herniated disc."

Riley gives her sincere eyes, "Why didn't you go home?"

Willow shrugs helplessly, "Buffy was having such a good time, I couldn't ask her to leave. I mean, she hasn't gone out for fun in two years." Willow gives one of her pursed lip grimaces, "Also, I felt I couldn't risk leaving her alone with Buffy's body."

Riley watches Buffy and Xander dance, "I see your point. I may actually have to pretend I can dance when Xander gives out."

Willow waves a negligent wrist, "You don't have to worry about that. Second to Anya, the thing Xander likes to do most is dance." Willow frowns tiredly, allowing, "perhaps I could have phrased that better."

Riley laughs that theory off, "Buffy is a Slayer. She could go for unthinkable numbers of hours."

"According to Anya," Willow mumbles under her breath, "So can Xander."

Riley lets muscle spasms ease from his shoulders, "Well, at least I can trust Xander not to take advantage of Buffy."

Willow eyes the way Buffy is eyeing Xander and thinks, 'But can you trust Buffy not to take advantage of him?'

*

Nine a.m. Buffy's roaring stomach forces her to admit defeat. She embraces a sweaty, sticky Xander.

She declares, "I have been outdone by the Xander bunny. I proclaim you king of the dance floor!"

Xander humbly accepts these accolades and bows, saying grandly, "I'd like to thank my inspiration; the otherworldly Buffy Summers, without whom I never could have done it."

Buffy laughs and hugs the crook of his elbow with both arms. "You are just such fun." Her stomach interrupts further conversation by roaring the tyrannosaurus rex ditty. Buffy states, "I am starved."

Xander sidles carefully away, "A three block radius has just been informed of that fact." He pats her hand and inclines his head toward Riley and Willow, "Should we wake them up for breakfast chez Giles?"

Buffy's eyes tilt wickedly, "Oh yeah!" She prances over to the sleeping beauties.

Xander tails her worriedly, "Um Buffy? Don't do anything I'm going to regret."

Buffy slaps the table where Riley and Willow were forced by exhaustion into neck-cricking slumber positions. They jump awake, Riley going for his hidden gun and Willow involuntarily levitates the table two inches. Buffy ignores this with supremely jaded nonchalance. "What is Buffy going to say when she finds out her lover slept with her best friend?" she asks them with glee.

Riley gives Buffy a look of studied indifference and grabs Willow. He plants the squeaking girl in his lap. Sweeping her into a dramatic dip, he gives her a long, passionless smooch. Riley calmly places the flustered Willow back in her chair and raises twinkly eyes in a completely serious face. "She'll tell me I shouldn't let myself get so exhausted that I can't make it home to bed," he informs her.

Buffy pouts as her joke falls flat. Xander and Willow circle the Buffy-Riley force-field in amazement. It's their first solid evidence that Riley has a sense of humour. They'd heard tales from Buffy of how he subtly stings people with their own words, but they brushed his ability off as menial at best. Au contraire. Riley is good. Buffy is left with no possible witty response. Check and mate.

Buffy whispers to Xander, "The three of them don't all sleep together, do they?"

"Nope."

"So I've been burned," Buffy sighs, "crispy."

"Oh yeah," Xander responds. "You've been given the royal joke butt reversal."

Buffy eyes Riley in admiration. He does nothing to gloat his victory. He just smiles gently. Buffy says, thinking out loud, "Man, all the people in Buffy's life are multiple superlatives. I can't help but be sick with envy."

They all beam at her, ignoring the reference to unpleasant bodily functions. Buffy changes the subject. "So breakfast."

Xander nods quickly, remembering the Buffy tummy roar.

They all swing away from the dance floor to the exit. Buffy asks, "Why breakfast at Giles'?"

Riley supplies the answer with enthusiastic agreement from Xander and Willow, "The man may be English, but _he can cook."_

*

A fierce growl accompanies the knock on his door. Giles removes the sword hidden over the door frame as he turns the knob.

Giles can't help a "Good Lord!" when he revelates that the terrifying sound resonates from the mid-region of a body too small to make that much racket.

Willow explains to his dumbfounded face, "Buffy is hungry."

Giles circles his chin in the air. "So you brought her here to cannibalize me?"

A fierce grumble indicates a stomach's willingness to do so. Xander cries piteously, "Feed us, Giles."

"I'm not a bloody restaurant," complains Giles even as he steps aside to let them in.

Riley hauls in four bags of groceries, "We bought supplies," he offers by way of apology.

Giles sees steak packed on top of one bag and salivates. "In that case, welcome."

Xander cheerfully informs him, "Anya and Tara are on their way."

*

After amazing everyone with her ability to metabolize 28 ounces of red meat, Buffy falls asleep mid-mastication. Making sure Buffy is utterly gone to REM, Willow says, "Giles, I'm worried about taking Buffy home. She hasn't once mentioned her mother. I'm afraid she isn't alive in her reality."

"Oh man," Xander breathes.

Riley states determinedly, "We have to tell her. She deserves the chance to see her mother again if her mother's gone in her world."

"Of course," Giles agrees, "but let's put it off for today. We'll fill her in on what could happen to the Sunnydale in her world. I'll call and tell Joyce not to expect Buffy today so she doesn't worry. And tonight. . ." Giles pauses as he leans back and pops a stiff shoulder joint, "we train."

Riley offers, "Will you need my help? I can. . ."

Giles interrupts Riley's desperate offer, "Yes, patrolling with Angel will be a great help."

Riley bites his lip to keep from whining, "But I don't wanna!"

Xander claps a commiseratory hand to Riley's shoulder, "Hey, think of it this way. With you on patrol duty tonight, it means that I don't have to watch dead boy's back.

Giles straightens as if just thinking of a wonderful idea, "Xander!"

Xander panics, "I didn't say a word! In fact, I'm not here." He tries to run, but Giles has a hold of his belt.

"You will accompany them," Giles orders calmly as if he weren't holding Xander by the pants.

Xander asks, "Isn't there a horrible hell dimension opening somewhere that needs our attention?"

Giles continues without inflection, "You will referee."

Xander wonders weakly, "You mean the kind of refereeing where Riley accidentally stakes Angel in the back and I give him penalty minutes for high sticking?"

Giles fights a grin, "No, just keep yammering on the way you do best and they can pretend to listen to you. Thus enabling them to ignore each other."

Xander dread of the evening renders the witty half of his brain unable to parry Giles' cut, "Won't that scare away any demons?"

"They're not fish, Xander. Demons are attracted to noisy humans."

Xander concedes defeat, "I'm just going to shut up, now."

Anya complains, "You should have shut up five minutes ago. Now you'll be out patrolling instead of having sex with me tonight."

Giles winces at Anya's bluntness. His British upbringing can't slough it off the way everyone else seems to.

Xander tries to shorten the embarrassing conversation, "We still have all day, An."

"No we don't, we're sitting here wasting it by hanging out with your friends," she points out.

"Maybe you should go," Giles mentions stiffly.

"Yes!" Anya agrees excitedly, "If we go now, we'll have several hours before dark."

Giving a sheepish grin to everyone, Xander hustles Anya from Giles apartment.

Willow lets out an exaggerated yawn, "I was up all night watching Buffy. I need some sleep" Her toe strokes Tara's under the table.

Tara jumps, "I need to go, too. I need to study for a test."

The two girls follow Xander and Anya out the door.

Giles exchanges wry glances with Riley. "At least they made a pretense of civil behavior."

Riley the peacemaker says, "I don't know. Despite her innate rudeness, I find Anya kind of refreshing."

"If a man acted the way she does, you would label him a pig."

Riley thinks about it. "You're right. I would." He shifts in his chair as another thought occurs to him. "So basically you want to be able to act the way she acts and get away with it. You can't, so you're jealous and her behavior annoys you even more."

Giles barks, "Don't you Psych 101 me!" He sighs, "You're probably right."

Riley politely changes the subject. Gazing at Buffy, he says, "I guess I should put her to bed."

Giles responds exasperatedly, "Not you, too!"

Riley gives him a serious gaze, "No, not that. This isn't my Buffy. You should have seen her dance, Giles. It was violent and crazy. She danced like it was the end of the world. She didn't even move the same as my Buffy."

"In some ways, for her, it is the end of the world. She, for all intents and purposes, lives in hell. She has a reprieve, but for how long? A minute, a week, a month? Not knowing is its own kind of hell. And us, we're going to send her back there if she isn't switched again with her double."

"You think she'll try to stay?" Riley worries.

"Of course not. She's still Buffy." Giles reassures. "But that doesn't stop her from wanting to stay. Wanting to be free of the hell she came from."

They are silent for a moment. Giles continues, "Knowing that I have a double there is the only way I can face (without debilitating guilt) sending this Buffy back. A duplicate of my soul is in that hell, too and I know he'll do everything possible to help her."

Riley and Giles sigh simultaneously. Too self conscious to grin at the mimic moment, Giles cleans his glasses while Riley bends down to lift Buffy.

"Do you have a spare bed?" Riley asks.

"No, but she can use mine. Up the stairs, on the left." Giles supplies.

Buffy murmurs as Riley shifts her in his arms. She shoots open bleary eyes for a battle ready second before recognizing Riley. With a sleepy grin she mumbles, "_My_ soldier man, what strong arms you have," before drifting back off to sleep.

Riley's eyes meet Giles, who doesn't have to be a mind reader to know what Riley's thinking when he turns back to the trusting form in his arms. 'All the better to hold you with.'

*

Buffy despairs of victory over the evil before her. Cold, emotionless, it takes no pleasure in the blows being dealt to her. There is no hope for reprieve in the face of such a fanatical work ethic.

Buffy's Slayer arms are like cooked spaghetti and her Slayer legs like raw dough. Sure, she'd gotten in a couple of shots on her opponent. Giles' face is swelling up like a gaseous belly, but she'd never worked so hard or been so tired since her first training after being Chosen. Training with Giles is like fighting a nest of warrior vamps.

Buffy steals a glance at the clock and gets a bruise for her trouble. "It's been over an hour," she tries not to whine, "can't we take a break?"

Giles raises surprised eyebrows, "You can't be tired, already." He notices her posture. "You're still slouching! It slows your upper body!"

"I'm tired of getting hit!" Buffy prevaricates. "Isn't it healthy to avoid abusive relationships?"

"The best way to do that is to defeat me somehow so you can get away. Only, you haven't done that." Giles shakes his head in disgust, "It's worse than I thought. Your weak points haven't been trained out of you and you've picked up bad habits that Sunnydale Buffy never learned. I've only just begun noticing and taking advantage of some of those." He sighs, "It's much harder to retrain someone than start from scratch." Giles frowns self-righteously, "and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not sulking about the hits you gave me. Hits you got, may I add, only because in trying to improve your fighting abilities, I made myself vulnerable, hoping you'd catch it. Which you did four times of the ten chances I gave you." Giles leans weakly on his weapon. He hasn't had to train with Buffy in a long time and this hour has brought him to just this side of a coronary.

Buffy gasps affrontedly, "You mean you faked it? That is despicable. Thus fades my momentary flush of triumph."

Giles forces enough breath into his lungs to equate an exasperated tone, "And so it should! Your offensive focus is all torso-centric." At Buffy's blank look Giles rephrases, "Centered on the chest. I left openings on my lower extremities for you numerous times, but you were oblivious."

Buffy puffs, "I'm fighting vampires out there, not Watchers. A good stake through the chest is what gets it done!"

"It's also the easiest to block or evade. Never have you gotten anywhere near a vampire killing blow on me. And I'm human with no supernatural speed or strength!" Giles points out. "It you'd kicked my leg out from under me, you could have staked me when I was down."

Buffy grits her teeth and spits, "Man that pisses me off!"

"That you should have got a killing blow and didn't?"

Buffy gestures wildly with both hands, "When someone other than me is right!"

Just as Giles is feeling self-congratulatory, Buffy continues, "What's worse is that you know her. This perfect Buffy that should have been me. I don't like being second." Glances at the staff in Giles' hand, "or third."

Giles decides to have mercy. "The fact is Buffy, that I can't keep this up," on himself. He walks stiffly to the nearest seat.

Buffy takes a good look at him, "Giles! You look, well, awful."

"No matter what you may think about how bad you feel; don't be deceived. I feel worse." Giles rotates his shoulder making audible little ligament clicks. "I am so out of shape."

Buffy gives a commiseratory grimace, "I'm sorry, I didn't even notice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Giles groans.

"I guess it kind of was one," Buffy admits. She turns away to hide an inappropriate smile, "I'll get you some ice for your face."

Giles waves his thanks, saying, "I'm going to make a list of things you need to work on and a few training techniques. You must memorize it and give it to my double."

Buffy says weakly, "Memorize? Um, I don't. . ."

Giles puts a trembling hand to his cheek. "Oh my face hurts so very badly. I don't know if I can stand the pain." He gives a long-suffering sigh, "Well, it's all in a good cause. Helping to save the world. Well, your world. . ."

"Oh, all right!" Buffy snaps. "I'll memorize it. Just stop with the drama queen bit."

Giles finds a pen and paper and begins to write. Buffy reads over his shoulder. He looks up, "This doesn't mean you stop training here."

Buffy stagger as from an unfair blow, "It doesn't?"

Giles intones, "An hour a day keeps the grim reaper away."

Buffy shakes her head, "That's awful."

Giles puffs, "Yes, well, my face hurts too much to come up with intelligent clichés."

Buffy looks heavenward, "Please, make it stop."

Giles adds a little too casually, "You should probably go home for supper tonight. I told your mom you'd be training all day." Buffy stands there stunned, while he continues. "But between your all-nighter last night and you being gone all day, she might begin to worry a little, considering your calling."

Wonder permeates Buffy's being, "My mom. . ." Then his last sentence sinks in. "She knows? About me being the Slayer?"

Giles nods, "You staked a vampire right in front o her. Due to impending Apocalypse and other circumstances, you couldn't find a convenient excuse for all the events except the truth."

"I saved her," Buffy murmurs.

Giles is confused, "Saved her?"

"From the vampire."

"Of course, but. . ." Giles begins.

Buffy races out without waiting to hear the end, "I'll be here tomorrow for training, Giles! Bye!"

*

Buffy, seeing her mom open the door, falls on her weeping and hugging. "I had this awful dream, mom," she explains when speech is possible again.

Joyce hugs Buffy, "This is about a dream? I thought maybe somebody died."

Joy wars with sadness on Buffy's face, "You did! You were a vampire. I was off saving the world again when you were attacked. I wasn't there to save you."

Joyce states solemnly, "It was very real to you."

Buffy begins weeping again, "Yes, yes."

"Do you think it was one of your prophetic dreams?" Joyce asks.

Buffy denies this with a horrified expression, "No!"

Joyce forces Buffy's chin up. "If it ever happens, Buffy, I want you to stake it."

"But I couldn't, I couldn't," Buffy trembles out, remembering.

"It wouldn't be me," Joyce insists, "It would be my murderer."

"But it looks like you," Buffy wails, "It has your memories."

"And what right would it have to my body? My memories? It wouldn't understand them. It would twist them, warp my personality."

Buffy clutches at straws, "What about a spell? The spell to give you back your soul. Like Angel."

"Isn't that a curse? And anyway. Never see the sun again? Never eat? Share my body with a demon? Who would want to live like that?" Joyce shakes her head.

Buffy cries, "But I need you!"

Joyce squeezes her tight, "Well of course, then. I'll always be there if you need me, baby. I'll do anything for you."

Buffy smiles through her tears, "Let's go to a movie! Dinner and a movie."

"A date with your mom on a Saturday night?" Joyce looks really worried for a second, "Is there an apocalypse coming?"

"No," Buffy exclaims triumphantly, "That's just it. Things are mellow. Giles gave me the next few nights off. Patrol is covered by a couple of demon hunters. Giles thinks I need a vacation."

"A few days off from your destiny?" Joyce sounds with joyous disbelief. "Sounds like the best idea ever." She brightens with idea bulb face. "Do you want to go out o town?"

Buffy gives a half grimace, "Well, there is one especially unpleasant demon crashing Sunnydale city limits eminently. I have to be here for that, but if it hurries and gets here soonish, I'll be free."

Joyce flutters her hands with excitement. "I need to give a week's notice at work for some vacation time. Do you think the demon situation will be handled by then?"

Buffy nods with optimism, "He's expected any day now."

Joyce can hardly believe it; a real vacation for her and Buffy. "Where should we go?"

"Somewhere with peace and quiet," announces Buffy laughingly, "A no demon zone."

"Amen to that," agrees Joyce, rolling her eyes, "Is there such a thing?"

"I'll ask Giles," Buffy decides, "He's good with these 'I'll need to know this once in my entire lifetime' bits of esoterica."

*

"I have no idea, Buffy," Giles tells her.

"No idea!" Buffy blurts with disbelief. "But you're information incarnate. Trivia oozes from your very pores. You're a walking library of – I know! Research!"

"Stop," Giles puts up a hand, "You're scaring me."

"Please," Buffy brings out her best puppy-eyes. "Please, please, please." Bounce, bounce, bounce.

"I'm about to run, screaming in terror," Giles insists. At Buffy's crestfallen expression, droopy shoulders, Giles sighs, "Why don't you go up to Canada? It's a rare demon that lives there because of the cold."

"See," Buffy beams, "I knew you knew."

Giles cautions, "But being warm this time of year, they still like to visit."

Buffy refuses all negative vibes, "No problem. We'll visit a nice, chilly mountain of some kind."

"Like Jasper?" Giles suggests.

"Like Jasper," Buffy agrees amiably, "Where's that?"

"The Rocky Mountains," Giles supplies, "Alberta side. A tourist town, but less so than many of the ski resort towns. All the amenities of a tourist friendly hangout, with peace and quiet to boot."

Buffy moans with anticipation, "Sounds like paradise." She pauses, "Wait a minute, vampires don't care about the cold."

"Vamps have tried, but they don't last long when they get a ways past the Canadian border. So I've heard." Giles informs.

"Because. . ." Buffy queries.

"My theory is that the population is pretty sparse up there and even in the bigger cities, the crime rate is so low that vampire killings stand out too much."

Buffy nods with understanding, "And those long winter nights don't do a vamp much good if everybody is huddled in their warm houses."

"Quite," Giles says with a nod at her deduction. "And in the summer, when it's warm, with vampire meals strolling about…"

"Land of the midnight sun," Buffy concludes.

"Or close enough, anyway," Giles says.

"Canada's sounding better and better," Buffy smiles enthusiastically to Giles.

But he's not paying attention, his mind is strolling down memory lane.

Jasper, past midnight, the aurora borealis throbbing to a heavenly rhythm. He and Awa in the snow, coffee skin and chocolate eyes, making a rhythm of their own. "Lord, she was beautiful," Giles whispers.

Buffy asks, confused, "Beautiful? She who?"

Giles answers, "Jasper. " A small smile tugs at stubborn lips. "I knew her in winter, but I'll bet she is just as outstanding in summer."

Buffy looks at him sideways, "We are talking about a place here, right?"

Giles busies himself with the catch on his desk, "Of course. Jasper. Great town." He turns away so she doesn't see the huge grin crack his face. Awa, he hadn't thought of her in ages. And that was a shame, because perfect memories should be savoured often.

Their conversation is interrupted by the telephone. Giles bustles over and grabs it. Riley's voice sounds over the receiver. "Confirmation on Pet. Seen over Victoria Island. At current speed, its ETA is sometime tomorrow night."

Giles repeats it, "Nighttime, good. Angel can help."

"Oh, yay," comes Riley's dry tone.

Giles stifles a chuckle, "See you tomorrow night, then." He hangs up and turns to Buffy. "Pet is due tomorrow night."

Buffy nods and adds curiously, "Pet? You gave him my pseudonym?"

"It seemed expedient considering that the demon's actual species is unpronounceable unless you have a forked tongue," Giles offers.

"Well that explains it," Buffy allows.

"Mandibles help, too," Giles adds

"Please stop."

To halt the way vivid memories of her demon un-friend's visage, Buffy chirps, "Training?" before she remembers the unpleasantness inherent in such activities with Giles.

Giles' still swollen cheek twitches. He replies with poker face, "Yes, we should work on your chainsaw skills."

Buffy's pupils dilate to dark pools of delight. A little girl's sound of wonder hums from 'o' shaped lips.

Letting the anticipation build, Giles lazily reaches down beneath his desk. Buffy cranes her neck to see it, oblivious to Giles' subtle teasing. Giles drags it out, hefting the chainsaw across his lap.

"Come to Buffy," Buffy says eagerly, reaching for the item.

Giles holds up a hand, "A few safety instructions first."

Buffy replies earnestly, "Studies show that people learn best with hands on training." She reaches again for the gleaming, seductive, grim reaping chainsaw.

Giles kicks his wheelie chair back out of her reach. "Studies show that people learn better I they have all the limbs necessary to operate a piece of machinery."

Buffy tries frantically to grab the lonely chainsaw while Giles spins madly in his chair, keeping it from her.

Buffy shouts in frustration, "It wants me!"

Giles instantly shakes off any theories of possible compulsions tied to the chainsaw as ludicrous paranoia. "You want it, you mean. Buffy, have you ever started a chainsaw?"

"No, but I've seen people do it on television," she argues with lots of passion and little logic.

Giles still spins his chair while Buffy chases him round and round, "Do you know where to place your hands when wielding it?"

Buffy scoffs, "Surely self-explanatory," she stops and stares at it with deep yearning. She reaches again, "Just let me hold it."

Giles grimly spins his chair again, "If you begin calling it 'my precious', I will destroy it!"

"I am not magically obsessed! I just want to…" Buffy can't stop herself from chasing the spinning chair as Giles circles it from her grasp.

Xander walks in and barks a shocked laugh.

Buffy looks up and pounces verbally, "Xander! Giles won't let me have the chainsaw." She points pitifully. "I need it to kill flying demon badness."

Xander inclines his head with adult sobriety, "Giles, share your toys with Buffy."

Giles defends his actions, yelping, "She's never used one! She'll end up chopping off a foot or something."

Xander looks Buffy dead in the eye, "It's always fun 'til someone loses a foot."

Buffy chuckles with one eye on the weapon of her dreams. "Xander, my world is a duller place without you."

Xander grins, "Yep, that's me, sharp as a needle's edge."

Giles rolls his eyes, "God, please help me."

Xander comforts, "Don't worry, Buffy. I brought the owner's manual for this baby. It's in that compartment." Xander points and Giles opens the casing. A thick book thuds to the floor, reverberating in the room.

Giles murmurs, "That's why this thing was so heavy."

Buffy coughs weakly, "A manual?"

Xander winks at Giles, "Isn't it great? As soon as you've read this," he bends down and heaves up the book with an exaggerated grunt, "We can rev this baby up."

Buffy turns with desperation to Giles, "But, but see its shiny diamond-toothed smile?"

Giles sighs dramatically, "Xander, we really don't have time for Buffy to read the entire manual. That's why I was going to give her abbreviated instructions."

"Yes!" Buffy shouts, "Everyone loves abbreviations. We use them all the time."

Xander points to the manual as if deeply troubled, "But Giles, once you start pushing books aside in favor of instant gratification, there's no telling where it will stop. First the chainsaw owner's manual, then before you know it, we'll be sending out Buffy to 'wing it' with an unknown demon because we haven't done the research."

Giles raises the chainsaw with both hands threateningly, "Have you used this?"

"Of course," Xander blusters.

"Then you've done the research," Giles hands the chainsaw off to Xander while Buffy makes a tiny noise of longing, eyes glued to the exchange. Giles gestures magnanimously, "You give her the safety lesson and handling instructions."

Buffy lustily eyes the weapon of destruction laying in Xander's vulnerable hands. She reaches for it, saying, "You know, studies show that people learn best with hands on training."

Xander casually moves it away from Buffy, "I'm supposed to put my hands on you while you learn? I like this method. I can also see how it would inspire you to greater scholastic heights." Xander nods knowingly. "Positive reinforcement, you know, they just haven't done enough research in that field." He pauses thoughtfully. "But you know, I still think you should read the manual first." Xander nods to the multi-pound volume.

Buffy gets the hint. Her shoulders slump in exaggerated surrender. "Fine." Only a slight whine creeps into her voice. "I'll be your grasshopper. Enlighten me."

"I still get to put my hands on you, right?" Xander probes.

Buffy says menacingly, "Maybe I'll put my hands on you."

Xander eyes her both warily and wistfully, "Almost willing to chance it." He sighs. "But between you having all that supernatural upper body strength and my girlfriend being an ex-vengeance demon, my odds of gaining eternal bliss from such an experience are just his side of infinity to one."

Buffy loves his dark, self-deprecating humour, "I am going to miss you when I'm gone, Xander."

Xander shuffles one foot, "Aw shucks, ma'am."

Buffy forces the smile to stay on her face as she recognizes that her words are heart-felt. If she were in her own body, she'd jump Xander's bones, ex-vengeance demon or no. Life is too short for regrets. Plus Anya had destroyed Buffy's world. Guilt for anything done against Anya would be a long time coming. But Buffy wears a body borrowed. She won't put this body to any overtly intimate uses and she hopes that her double is showing the same courtesy. She eyes Xander, still…

Xander is not used to Buffy looking at him that way, asks timidly, "Um, Buffy, you okay?"

Buffy answers distractedly as his voice sweeps away her carnal thoughts, "Hmm?"

Xander looks at her askance.

"Right!" Buffy get back on the conversational ball, "Chainsaw briefing. 101 ways to prevent leg choppage."

Xander breathes a sigh of semi-relief, "You'll be happy to know arm choppage and head choppage are pretty much included."

"Head choppage!" Buffy's eyes light with bonfire flames of glee. "Forget stakes! I want to patrol with Mr. Chainsaw!" She grabs for the chainsaw.

Xander valiantly holds the tool away from the obsessed Slayer. "Preventing your own decapitation," Xander grunts with mighty effort as Buffy jumps up toward his high held hand, "is key to these plans."

"Auhahav!" Buffy whines unintelligibly.

Giles cuts in, "If you'd let me show you how to use it in the first place…" he nods to a stuffed dummy in bronze armor, "You'd have been slicing through Sir George over there by now." Giles can't prevent a small smirk, which he tries to cover up by meticulously cleaning his glasses.

Buffy gapes at Giles in tortured disbelief, "You're evil."

Giles swivels his back to her, facing his desk as the repressed smile cracks his face. Taking a sip of cold tea, Giles murmurs, "I'm also right."

Buffy looks at her clenched fist and then at Giles' vulnerable cranium.

Xander had never seen her look at Giles like that. "Um, Buffy?"

Buffy begins to mutter to herself, "Slayer of evil. It wouldn't be so bad to hurt him just a little. Take the edge off that sharp tongue of his. Yes…"

"Buffy," Xander starts to get really worried. "Mr. Chainsaw is waiting."

Buffy takes a deep breath. It really is the better part of valor to play rather than Slay. Yes, play. The death watch stops ticking in her eyes. She turns to smile at Xander. "Mr. Chainsaw mustn't be kept waiting. Mr. Chainsaw is my new friend." Buffy nods playfully and Xander begins safety tip number one with a mental swipe at his brow.

Buffy turns back to Giles. But first things first…

*

Buffy relates the pertinent points to her mom over home-cooked meal that night. She recounts, "…so I get him in a headlock, grab the felt pen on his desk and write 'Giles is evil' on that big, shiny forehead of his."

Joyce shrieks with laughter, spraying mashed potato all over the dinner table. Neither of them cared as Buffy joins in her mother's hilarity. "Buffy, you didn't," Joyce protests with ill-concealed glee."

Buffy concedes, "Well, no. I only got as far as 'Giles is e' when Xander and he wrestled me off him."

Joyce laughs again, "That's almost worse."

Buffy plays devil's advocate, "Unless people think he's energetic."

Joyce gets a funny look on her face, wipes tears from her eyes and changes the subject after a few lingering chuckles, "But you still got to practice tearing a chainsaw through bronze armor?"

"Oh yeah," Buffy nods with enthusiasm. "And the eternal wait before I got my hands on that machine was well worth it when Giles came back downstairs with a painfully red forehead labeled 'Giles is e'.

They crack up again, Joyce holding her stomach in hilarity overload. Buffy squeaks out over laughter-tight vocal cords, "And the look on his face, all dignified, like nothing was wrong."

Joyce groans as her abdominal muscles scream mercy, "Buffy," she waves a hand weakly, "please stop. I can't take anymore."

Buffy's Slayer-strength stomach muscles feel no pain. She asks slyly, "And if I'm a good girl who obeys her mother?"

"You get dessert."

Buffy sits up ruler straight and announce primly, "My lips are sealed." She adds to be sure of no tragic misunderstanding, "Except for dessert insertion."

While they partake of coconut cream pie, Joyce wonders, "Buffy, who's patrolling tonight while you're here with me?"

Buffy answers without thinking, "The guys."

"You mean Riley, Giles and Xander?"

"Hmm?" Buffy mumbles over a stray coconut flake, "No. Riley, Xander and Angel."

"Angel. Your Angel?" Joyce interrupts herself, "Angel's in town?"

Buffy chuckles, "Yeah. Patrolling with Riley."

Joyce is glad to see Buffy so relaxed about it. Still, something was worrisome about this situation. Joyce allows a bit of sarcasm to enter her voice, "And they just decided to go patrolling together?"

"Giles made them do it. He sent Xander to referee."

"Dear Lord in heaven," Joyce breathes. "Giles _is_ evil."

*

Angel and Riley have been sniping at each other all night. Xander feels like he's at home with his mom and dad.

Angel says to Riley, "I can't kill you."

Riley acknowledges the accolade with a smug testosterone surge. Riley may be human, but even Angel has to admit…

Angel interrupts Riley's mental self-congratulation. "I might have that moment of perfect happiness and then where would we be? You dead." Angel inclines head toward Xander, "Xander helpless before my Angelusness. Although…" Angel narrows his eyes at Xander.

Xander interjects Angel's speculation with nervous laughter, "Yeah, but once you start with me and work your way back through the alphabet, before you know it, it's Buffy's neck beneath your teeth. And you like Buffy."

"Yes," agrees Angel while he privately thinks Xander wasn't making a winning argument. "I do like Buffy."

Xander looks at Angel with suspicion. Angel's words don't feel like a promise not to kill everyone. He clutches his last resort stake tightly to his chest. This is so much fun that Giles deserves a big reward for his part in Xander's enjoyment of the evening. Xander means to see that Giles gets what's coming to him.

*

The next night, Joyce queries as Buffy prances out the door, "That demon you need to kill is due tonight, right?"

Buffy pauses, "That's right."

Joyce tries to be encouraging, "Well, have fun," before she realizes just how weird encouraging can sound in this situation.

Buffy grins, "I will."

"And be careful," Joyce adds. There, that sounded more normal.

"Of course," Buffy agrees, thinking back to a conversation she had with Willow. "I have a lot to live for."

*

Buffy, Riley and Angel all look up at the night sky. Giles had insisted that the others stay home as Buffy would be distracted enough with two more people than she was used to fighting with.

Buffy turns to Riley impatiently, "So where is our little pet?"

Riley's in soldier mode, "On it," he answers crisply. He brings out military issue talkie and buzzes into it, "Location of target?" He pauses, "Roger that." Riley responds to Buffy, "Two miles north-north-west and headed in our direction."

Buffy watches while Riley removes a hi-tech slingshot from his duffel. She eyes it doubtfully, addressing Riley, "I hope your toys work on this thing."

Riley nods toward the chainsaw Buffy carries jauntily over one shoulder with mild distaste, "Better than that thing will."

Buffy raises chainsaw one-handed off her shoulder and gazes lovingly at it. "Gotta let a girl have her fun."

Riley gives her a what-planet-are-you-from look and says ironically, "Fun. Right."

Angel interrupt, "There it is." He points.

Riley raises some infrared binoculars. "He's right." He lowers them and looks at Angel. "Good night vision."

Angel doesn't look at Riley as he responds, "The best."

Riley hands the binoculars to Buffy and loads the steel sling with its ammunition. Buffy plays halfheartedly with the lenses and asks Riley, "How'd you get ahold of all this equipment, anyway? They don't just leave stuff like this lying around."

Riley twitches a cheek muscle, "Actually, they do if they're in a demon-infested, secret ex-government facility underground."

Buffy compresses her lips, "Willow and I haven't really covered the Initiative yet in my save the alternate dimension studies."

Riley summarizes as he finishes loading a mini-missile into the sling shot, "They tried to create a cyber-human demonoid to help fight the inhuman creatures of the night and it backfired on them."

Buffy gives him a wry glance, "Imagine that."

Angel points to a starless patch of black in the sky. When Riley sees a matte-black shape against the deeper dark of the night sky, he takes aim and lets go of the sling's trigger mechanism. Like a high, long note on a violin, the sphere launches singing toward Pet. Riley speedily reloads the sling. Before the first explosion fires the sky, Riley sends the next note of battle music on its way. The beast falls screaming tenor from the air.

Buffy, Angel and Riley race to the crash site. Angel reaches it as it stands on all fours, one wing torn to tatters. Pet barely notices as Angel strikes it with a sword. It swats Angel aside like one would a charging poodle. The demon turns its red-eyed glare on Buffy's arrival.

Buffy tsks, "You've been a very bad demon." With cool menace, Buffy slowly raises the chainsaw. Locking eyes with Pet, she declares, "You're grounded."

Pet's high-pitched, whistley voice acknowledges, "Slayer." Then it lunges, slicing a shiny, clawed hand through the air. Buffy ducks, rolls and pulls the ripcord on the chainsaw. It sputters and fails to catch. Pet laughs a tea kettle shrill into the air. Unfazed, Buffy again avoids its reach and flips over its head, using the butt of the chainsaw to bash its broken wing from behind. Shrieking as much from frustration as pain, the demon twists around to confront Buffy, thus baring its back to the late arriving Riley.

Riley opens a steel spear and drives it through Pet's unmarred wing, pinning it to the ground. Pet flexes its shoulder muscles, almost flinging Riley and spear aside. Riley shouts, "Angel! Recess is over!"

Angel limps over despite Riley's sarcasm and adds his strength to hold the spear firm. Between the two of them, they keep Pet pinned in place.

Buffy catches her breath and announces, "It's sad really," She pauses, hr hand on the rip cord handle, "When diplomatic relations between intelligent species fail." She yanks the cord and chainsaw revs its motor mightily. "Sad for you that is." Buffy adds. Manouevering the chainsaw one handed, Buffy snaps at Pet with diamond teeth. The creature reaches with black claw's that penetrate Buffy's shoulder at the same moment the chainsaw eats through Pet's ribcage. They scream in harmony and fall bound by weapons. The demon glances down with disbelief at the still embedded chainsaw.

"Cheating humans with their killing toys," Pet clicks out, contorting its face in a grimace of pain. It looks over at Buffy whose arm twitches in agony as the poison hits her system. Buffy begins to spasm. Pet starts to cackle at the irony, groaning as the movement tears its chest wound further.

Angel cries a frantic, "Buffy!" His face vamps out as he scrambles toward her. Buffy figures his blood lust has overcome him at the sight of her blood, but she feels too weak to fight him off. Angel bends over her shoulder and bites in, sucking at the wound. He spits it out and sucks fiercely again, making Buffy cry out in pain.

"So, Slayer," Pet whistles weakly, "We die together. Worth it just to see you suffer."

Riley pulls several items from his pockets. He plunges a hypodermic needle into a bottle. He refutes Pet's claim, saying, "I don't think so."

Riley kneels down by Buffy, preparing to stab her with the needle. Buffy sees him and waves weakly at him with the hand not holding the beloved chainsaw. She asks Riley, "Buffy dated both of you, right?" She gives an inner chuckle. "Bitten and stabbed. I think I see a disturbing trend here. A girl could die from such loving-kindness."

Angel raises his head to see what she's talking about. He snaps a swift hand of warning on Riley's arm. Riley shakes him off, impatient. "Antivenin," Riley barks.

Angel's vamp face subsides and he moves back to give Riley room.

Buffy flops her head sideways to gaze almost fondly at her nemesis. For months her defeat at the hands of this kind of demon had haunted her, had flawed her Slayerhood. Now…"You've marked my appearance and my character," She smiles with mildly vindictive satisfaction, "Looks like my destiny is still my own. Thanks to fangy," Buffy nods at Angel. She turns her gaze to Riley, eyes gleaming wickedly at his bulging pocket paraphernalia, "And thanks to Mary Poppins, here." Her eyes close as Pet clicks its frustrated rage at the warriors.

Riley gently penetrates Buffy's skin with the needle and plunges home the liquid. Sitting back on his heels, Riley takes Buffy's hand.

Sensing from her heartbeat, that Buffy is indeed unconscious, Angel questions, "How can you have an antivenin for a demon you've never come across?"

Riley explains, "The Initiative came across a few venomous demons. In creating antivenin for each specific type, they learned a lot about some of the base ingredients that all the poisons carried. They created a general antivenin from this research. It's no cure, but it helps the body by reducing the venom's effect."

"And with a Slayer's ability to heal…" concludes Angel.

"She should be fine in two or three days," informs Riley.

"My work here is done," states Angel and he sweeps away in an instant.

Riley looks at Buffy, all the equipment and Xander's chainsaw still embedded in Pet's oversize corpse.

"Great," snaps Riley, "Leave me to take care of the mess."

A league away, Angel hears him and gives an evil smile to the night. "Timing is everything."

*

Buffy's shirt is bandage-lumped over one shoulder as she lays back on Giles' couch. She accepts a cup of hot tea from Giles with weary thanks. She says, "I felt strong; facing it, fighting it. There was no doubt about my ability or uncertainty on how to kill it." She gives Giles a genuine Buffy smile, "Thanks Giles."

Giles returns a gratified smile, while Riley stiffens an affronted back.

"You too, Riley," Buffy smiles at him. Suddenly, she goes still and gazes into nowhere. She gets up, achily. "I'm going to say good bye to Angel."

Riley shakes his head, "He left right after I gave you that shot."

Buffy gives Riley an enigmatic look before walking out the door. In the courtyard, Buffy peers about her.

Inside the apartment, Riley is realizing just how thoroughly he's been shafted by the ungrateful dead. It had taken him an hour to clean the battle site and help Buffy to Giles' place. Riley rumbles, "That lazy, no good…"

"Angel?" Buffy calls.

Angel coalesces from the shadows and floats toward her. He makes no sound as his dark eyes drink in every detail of her. He moves forward, invading her space. Buffy doesn't move as his hand cups her head and nostrils flaring with her scent, Angel lays cool lips on her feverish forehead. Working his way gently down her face, his teeth and lips stimulate heretofore unknown nerve endings. When the pounding of her heart and the yearning in his is too much, Angel places a hesitant, trembling mouth on Buffy's. Slow and sweet at first, passion flares between them and the kiss burns wild. Plunging both hands deep in her hair, Angel absorbs every inch of Buffy's body to his.

Timid at first, Buffy flutters a little before relaxing into him. Soon, she returns his kiss with equal aggression, moans vibrating in the back of her throat. Eternal minutes later, Angel pulls away and lowers his head. Clenching her hair tight in one fist, he utters, "Goodbye, Buffy." He releases her and spins away, jacket snapping in the air before flaring out in silken ripples behind him as he moves deeper into the night.

Buffy raises a trembling hand to her swollen mouth. "Whew! That guy _really_ gives great exit!"

*

Riley eyes Buffy's mouth suspiciously as she re-enters the apartment. "So he's really gone this time?"

"Hmhmm," Buffy responds distractedly.

Riley can't help but feel two-timed even though this isn't his Buffy. "You two together in your world?" he questions abruptly.

"Hmm?" Buffy finally pays attention, "No. I only knew him briefly before he

was added to the Sunnydale dust bunny population."

Riley tries unsuccessfully to his a grin, "Really?"

"Yeah. He died trying to help me kill the Master."

"Well, good for him!" At Buffy's shocked expression, Riley hastily adds, "You know, going out a hero and all."

Buffy cocks an eyebrow, "You really need to work on your lying skills."

"Hey, I'm allowed to be bitter," Riley defends. "Ex-boyfriend comes into town to save my girl. It's way high on the issues factor."

Buffy decides to forgive his tactlessness. "Granted." She sags into the couch. An uncomfortable silence grows as Buffy wishes Riley would leave already so she could sleep. She tries to come up with a conversation that might keep her politely awake. "So, how did you get involved in demon fighting?"

Riley sits down at this show of interest on her part. Giles gives Buffy a look of commiseration. Giles can't very well kick Riley out after the near death of his girlfriend's double. Well, not so soon, anyway.

"I was recruited by the government," Riley answers.

"This project Initiative or whatever?" Buffy asks.

Riley allows, "Something like that."

"Did they recruit Buffy, too?" Buffy queries.

"Um," Riley squirms, suddenly reluctant to tell that particular tale, "It's a long story."

Giles jumps in, "They joined forces for a while until the head scientist tried to have Buffy terminated."

Buffy to Riley, "And what did you do then?"

"I went kind of crazy for a while from vitamin withdrawal. Then I kind of quit/got fired."

Buffy lowers her head in a gesture of mild confusion, "Vitamin withdrawal?"

"It's a long story," Riley negates.

Giles helps out, "They were secretly pumping up their recruits with experimental drugs in order to make them stronger for demon fighting."

Riley throws Giles a manly pout, "Stop shortening my stories!"

"Right, then," Giles gives Buffy an 'I'm sorry, I tried' shrug.

Buffy muffles a snicker. But actually, she might need to know this for her dimension, "Go on," she encourages, "Tell me about the Initiative."

Much to Giles boredom enriching dismay, Riley gives the long version. "Too used to military debriefings," Giles mutters to himself, "Boy doesn't know when to summarize."

An hour later, Giles is jerked awake by Buffy's laughter. "So she showed up in a little pink halter to capture this bad-ass demon?"

Riley chuckles, "You should have seen Professor Walsh's face."

Giles perks up. Professor Walsh looking foolish? Maybe Riley is wise not to leave out any information. You never know what might end up being pertinent.

"This is the same Professor Walsh who tried to kill other me and failed?" Buffy begins by raising one finger, "Tried to build a good-hearted cyber demon; ending up with a genocidal super villain," she raises another finger, "And who fed you addicting uber-vitamins behind your back?" Buffy raises a third finger.

Riley reluctantly agrees to each point while Giles nods at each finger with triumphant smugness.

Riley defends Walsh weakly, "She was doing what she thought would help humanity."

Giles nods wisely, "Yes. Good intentions and all that."

Riley turns narrowed eyes on him, "And who was it that injected Buffy with some special muscle relaxant serum so she would lose her powers on her eighteenth birthday?"

"She told you about that?" Giles jerks in surprise before recalling himself, "That was different! The Council ordered me…"

"The Council," Buffy turns intensely interested eyes on Giles, "What's this? My eighteenth is coming up."

"I'm sure given the situation on your world, the Council would never…" Giles demurs, then pauses and thinks about it, "Well, they are a bunch of hidebound sphincter-clenched, tradition blinded idiots." He concludes.

Buffy stands frozen with horrified indecision. She doesn't know whether to kill Giles because he's obviously evil or have him committed because he's obviously insane.

Seeing Buffy slip into a battle-ready posture, Riley hastens to explain. "On a Slayer's eighteenth birthday, the Council orders the girl's Watcher to secretly inject her with a solution that removes her Slayer powers. Then they trap her in a house with a particularly vicious vampire."

"Why would you try to convince me of such a ludicrous story, the Council would never deliberately kill the Slayer." Buffy pounces verbally.

"Their explanation is basically that if she dies, we needed a new one anyway." Giles says bitterly, "And that if their petty little test doesn't kill her, it will make her a stronger Slayer. That's what really matters."

Buffy points out the flaw in his logic, "And yet, you did this to Buffy."

"It was utterly wrong. I was so used to taking the Council's orders I didn't stop to question them until after the test was already under way. Things went wrong even over and above the Council's manipulative little scenario and Buffy paid the price, just like she always ends up doing." Giles admits.

Riley claps a hand on Giles shoulder sympathetically, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Giles. You paid a price, too. You got fired."

"Thanks for that," Giles responds dryly, "You've made me feel so much better."

Riley pretends Giles is being sincere, "Any time I can lend a helping verbosity."

Buffy stares at them, "Everybody in this place is weird. The Twilight Zone theme pops into my head at frequent intervals." Having acquired as much information as she can handle with sanity intact, Buffy yawns and settles deeper into the couch. "Wake me when it's time for mom and I to go on vacation." She falls instantly asleep, feeling safe for the first time in two years.

"About that vacation," Giles protests, "I never said…"

"Let her, Giles," Riley interrupts, "The gang and I can patrol for a week or so."

"What if there's an emergency?" Giles brings up.

"Then we call her hotel and Buffy flies home to rescue the world." Riley smiles.

"And if telephone lines are out?" Giles worst case scenarios.

"Then we beam her a message via telepathic brainwaves," Riley nods solemnly. "Honestly, Giles, she's burnt out. She needs a break."

Giles struggles between duty and affection. "She needs to train. Quite desperately."

Buffy drifts awake enough to hear Riley ask earnestly, "What's the point of fighting if Buffy has nothing to fight for? She can train after her vacation with her mom. Buffy needs to remember and experience the good thing, the normal things; why humanity is worth saving. It will make her fight better than all the training in the world."

Giles mutters with a sigh, "It just eats at me. The gaps in her training. The flaws in her technique. Her lethargy about perfecting her Slayer craft." He pauses when he realizes what he's said, "You're probably right."

Riley gets a satisfied expression on his face.

Giles adds, "It's quite annoying, you know."

Buffy smiles in her half-sleep, 'my hero,' she thinks, sinking into REM, visions of friends dancing in her head.

*

Joyce enters the hotel room with some extra towels from the front desk. Buffy bounces on the hotel bed.

"Have you tried the tapwater here?! It's better than bottled water!" Buffy exclaims. "It's better than iced mochas," she whispers in awe.

"You drank from the tap?" Joyce asks with a grimace of worry, "Buffy…"

"Try it," Buffy insists, "Live a little. I dare you."

Joyce demurs for five minutes with Buffy pushing and pushing. Joyce finally throws up her hands, "Fine." She tries it. "Oh my heavens," Joyce closes her eyes in ecstasy. "This is what water is supposed to taste like." She looks down at the tap in wonder, "I never knew."

"Told you," Buffy shouts giddily, "Told you, told you, told you."

"Yeah," Joyce laughs, happy to see Buffy in such a care-free mood, "You sure told me."

"Let's go sight-seeing. Nature, not stores," Buffy suggests.

"Ooh. Radical," teases Joyce. She thinks for a second, "Gondola ride?"

"Even better!" Buffy agrees. "Nature without the buggy inconvenience. Hmm. Can bugs survive this far north?"

"Mosquitoes can," Joyce warns, scratching her neck just thinking about it. "They're like the size of winged tarantulas here."

"Uhh!" freaks Buffy, "I'd rather face a demon any day!"

*

"Famous last words, Buffy?" gulps Joyce, looking at the horrible, huge creatures tearing apart a carcass on the side of the mountain.

Buffy peers out the gondola window. "Oh. Those are just trolls. They eat kids. There's debate about whether they're really demons at all; or just some weird link on the evolutionary chain. Noneties, really."

"I thought you just said they eat kids," Joyce quavers. "Kids."

"Yes, _kids_," clarifies Buffy. "Baby goats."

"Oh," Joyce tucks in a disconcerted chin. "That's still kind of sad."

"I'll go beat them up if you want," offers Buffy cheerfully, heading for the gondola door.

"Buffy!" shouts Joyce. "Stay in the lift!"

Buffy sits back down, "Sheesh. It's only 100 feet or so. I'd have been fine." She shifts in her seat and mocks her mother's gullibility. "Besides, I was joking. I don't beat you up for making lamb kebobs."

"It's not very nice to scare your poor mother," warns Joyce. She changes the subject as a thought occurs. "Baby goats. Does that mean the troll under the bridge…"

"And the three billy goats gruff?" finishes Buffy. "Probably a true-ish story. I mean, goats don't talk or anything; that we know of; but goats and trolls are natural enemies. Wouldn't you hate someone who ate your babies?" Buffy segues, "Of course, the tale must have been changed. I'll bet the troll let those billy goats go."

Joyce asks, "Why is that?"

"Trolls only find the kids tasty," Buffy explains helpfully.

Joyce makes a face. Buffy extrapolates, "Maybe a nanny if they're starving."

"Why not a billy goat, then," wonders Joyce.

Buffy is happy to give her theory, "My guess is it's because billy goats piss on themselves. They stink. Probably taste bad, too. Maybe it even makes them toxic."

Joyce sits, there, stunned; panoramic view completely forgotten. She makes a weak attempt to stop Buffy. "Buffy, please."

Buffy is on a roll. "They do it to attract the females or something. Go figure. I mean, if some man pissed himself, the last thing on my mind would be romance…"

"I'm begging you to stop now," Joyce pleads with a green face, swallowing hard.

Buffy finally takes a good look at her mother, "Oh. Well, okay. A little too much information, eh?"

Joyce daren't move her head to nod, squeaking, "Uh-huh."

Buffy tries to help out by changing the subject, "Where should we go for dinner tonight?"

The ill-timed question sends Joyce heaving onto the gondola floor.

"Ew," Buffy remarks, jumping out of the way with superhuman reflexes. "That's going to make the lift operators' day."

*

"So other than a brief motion-sickness event in the gondola," Buffy concludes blithely to Giles, Willow and Xander. "It was the best vacation ever."

"Motion-sickness?" wonders Giles, surprised, "You had motion-sickness?"

"No," Buffy gives him 'don't be ridiculous face', "My mom did. Mostly due to troll eating habits."

"Trolls?" Giles stiffens, surprised. "You encountered trolls?" He peers at her more intensely, "On the gondola?" He mutters to himself, "I thought trolls were extinct."

"They're alive and well in the Canadian Rockies." Buffy informs with a perky nod. "Though not _on_ the gondola." Buffy adds, "Must be all those yummy mountain goats."

Giles gives her a queer look, "How do you even know about trolls? You're not exactly into the study of endangered demon species."

"Rumor in my dimension has it that they're not demons at all." Buffy answers, "Anyway, they've come out of the mountain closet on my world. They help us by hiding and protecting a lot of our surviving children. The orphans, mostly. Sometimes a rich family will bribe them with enough goats to take in one of the rich family's babies."

Giles sits down abruptly. Willow looks traumatized. Xander looks suspicious. "How do these people know that they aren't just eating the children and trotting forth a few poster kids to make it seem like they're okay?" Xander demands.

"Okay, no one on my dimension uses the word 'kid' for 'child' anymore," Buffy winces, "because trolls eat kids; baby goats, that is."

Willow makes a sad face, "Aw."

"I'm afraid we humans have lost all sentimentality for baby goats," Buffy says dismissively. "A troll's gotta eat."

"Yeah," says Xander, still deeply suspicious.

"They can't digest humans," Buffy waves off his worries. "We have too many preservatives in us. They are highly allergic."

"And just how did they find that out?" Giles wonders dryly.

"They couldn't eat farm raised goats until we went totally organic with them," Buffy tsks Giles pessimistic outlook.

"How many guesses the next generation of children raised by the trolls will be totally organic," insists Xander with his xenophobia in high rev.

"Unless we can close the Hellmouth that's letting all the demons in to our world," Buffy informs, "There won't be a next generation. The trolls are keeping the children in their underground tunnel systems for now. But when the demons start to run out of easy prey, they're going to go sniffing for stragglers. The trolls are buying us as much time as they can."

Willow puts in her two cents, nervously, "Hopefully, Buffy has already killed the Master and closed the Hellmouth."

"Yeah," Xander jokes, "You'll just be on clean-up duty."

Buffy smiles, "My world could use the pointy end of a broom, for sure." She thinks about all that she's been through the last two years. "I hope she has, too," Buffy whispers solemnly.

Giles harrumphs, "Well, we're trying to find a spell to reverse your identities, but meanwhile, I think we should work on some defensive moves. Your training…"

Buffy rolls her eyes at Xander and Willow, receiving commiserating looks. 'Oh well,' she comforts herself. 'Time to be all I can be.'

*

Buffy is comfortably sleeping in her double's bed that night when a familiar tug pulled her soul out of its corporeal host and into the void. "Isn't it always the case that the trip home seems longer?" Buffy thinks as she contemplates nothingness. Timeless moments later, Buffy hovers over her own body as she sees herself walking in the company of a vampire. Wait a minute. What is it with Sunnydale Buffy and her obsession with pink? Ohio Buffy's soul slips home with an inaudible thump. She glances down at the glaringly bright colors gracing her body. "My doppelganger dresses me funny," Buffy mutters before looking up. She takes a close look at the leather clad demon in front of her.

Buffy's eyes narrow at said vampire. "Is that blood I see on your chinny, chin, chin?" she asks with menace.

CHAPTER ONE

Her second year of college is eminent and Willow is pre-studying on a bench on campus. A silky black cat wanders by and Willow bends down to stroke its tail as it passes by. The feline raises pleased eyes and leaps up next to her.

"Oh you like that, do you?" smiles Willow as she sets aside her book and gives her full attention to rubbing that perfect spot just beneath Pal's chin. He proceeds to crawl right into her lap and purr like mad.

"Aren't you a sweet thing," Willow comments as she gives him a firm nose to tail body rub.

Pal nods but Willow doesn't notice in her pet-and-repeat oblivion. Pal rubs into her hands, vibrating with diesel engine volume.

Willow relaxes as the purr brightens her spirits. "Well, you just love this, don't you?"

Pal nods again. Willow nibbles her lower lip. "I wonder to whom you belong. If Amy the rat weren't an issue, I'd be tempted to take you home myself." Willow gently lowers the clinging cat to the ground, sighing wistfully. "Oh well, you must belong to someone. You look well cared for."

Pal watches as Willow straightens. His purrs die in a stunned throat. She's going to reject his perfection!

Willow verbal ramblings continue out loud, "Plus, you might feel an instant need to become closely acquainted with poor Amy and that would never do."

Pal gazes up at her with longing, cat-lashes blinking.

"Don't look at me like that," begs Willow. "I can't keep you."

Pal raises an entreating paw.

Willow's face gets sweetly fretful. "You're so cute," she murmurs as she clenches her fist to stop her disobedient petting hand. Her chin firms. "No," she commands herself. "I can't keep a cat." Willow gives her head a negative swivel. "It's not mine. And I have a pet already." She pauses, "Well, not a pet, really. A human in pet shape. Eww." Willow shudders, "Anyway, I'm unavailable for adoption." She gestures at Pal's healthy form. "And it's unavailable for adoption." Willow starts walking to the dormitories. "We're all unavailable for adoption."

As she mutters to herself, Willow doesn't notice that Pal is trotting behind her like a well-trained dog. Willow enters Stevenson Hall and makes her way to her dorm room. As her hand stretches toward the knob, she notices Pal standing expectantly at her feet. Willow is aghast and filled with guilt instantly. She'd encouraged him with her well-meant stroking and now he was going to feel rejected when she closes the door in his sweet little kitty face. "Oh," Willow mourns, "I can't keep you. There's Amy," Willow gestures towards the room's innards. She continues, "And whoever owns you." She nods emphatically to herself, muttering, "Discipline." She edges into her room sideways, leaving no opening for Pal to follow her in. "Willpower is the key. Just say no." She closes the door as she sneaks her lower leg in.

Buffy lounges on the bed waiting to talk to Willow. "Who're you talking to?" Buffy asks as Willow enters.

"Myself," Willow admits sheepishly, arms folding across her chest.

"Okay," Buffy jokes. "Want to have a three way?" Buffy gulps. "Conversation, I meant. A three way conversation. You, yourself and I."

Willow hides a smile. Buffy can always make Willow feel less dumb no matter how foolish Willow feels. That's a rare gift.

Pal stares at the closed door for a while in disbelief. His disembodied voice echoes along a telepathic frequency. 'Hmph, that didn't go as planned," he remarks, hardly believing his own receptors. Pal cocks his head and sniffs thoughtfully. He crooks his tail as he turns to glide away, stating, "Well, there's more than one way to encompany a human." His tail tick-tocks in the air as Pal exits the building.

*

"Well who asked you?" Buffy demands of Xander's retreating form.

"Um, you did," Xander reminds her as he desperately attempts to smother his potentially life-threatening grin. Telling himself that his sense of humour could cause his friend pain did no good. Point out to his conscience that this in turn could cause him pain did little better in the face of Buffy's new habille.

"Never tell a girl her shoes are a joke!" Buffy blusters. "Especially by laughing at them! Especially if they're overpriced back-to-school shoes that must be frequently worn in order to justify their expense to one's mother!"

Xander produces a sincere expression, offering tentatively, "I was overcome by joy to be in the presence of such august footwear?" His gaze is drawn inexorably down to the clothing crisis. Against his will, he squeaks on a runaway chuckle and then gulps. "See?" Xander gasps desperately. "Joy! Can't help it. Must laugh."

Buffy's eyes narrow at Xander's complete inability to render a believable social lie. "Mock me at your peril," she warns.

Xander pretends to go into a coughing fit. Buffy rolls her eyes and bends down to remove the shoes. Xander puts out his hand, blurting, "No, wait! Everyone must have this joy!" He yells to the bedroom. "An'! Anya! Come and see Buffy's shoes!"

Buffy huffs out.

*

Willow is walking by the bookstore alley when she hears a piteous meowing. Nervously, she creeps a couple of feet into the alley, furtively peeking around the corner of a dumpster. Willow keeps her head scooched low in case of demon ambush. Willow's searching eyes spot Pal. He's lying battered with blood sneaking trails in the dirt.

Somehow Willow just knows it's the cat she pet the day before immediately. She runs to him, tears crawling out of her eyes. She gingerly picks him up. "Poor baby," she croons brokenly.

'Now that's more like it,' Pal declares with satisfaction as he lolls weakly in her embrace.

"What happened to you, baby?" Willow wonders as she cradles him tenderly.

Pal shudders a bit as if in deep pain which causes Willow's tears to gush as a sob bursts from her chest. He lifts a torn paw to her wet cheek, giving explanations she can't hear. 'I let some dog beat me up so that you'd react just like this. Very gratifying. Then I changed him into a sweet, cat-loving dog.' He mews quietly for effect.

Willow coos sympathetically.

Pal's eyelids lower as he allows, 'I may have gone a bit overboard there.' He has a traumatic flashback of cat-friendly dog attempting to hump Pal. 'Quite disturbing really,' he mutters mentally, shaking his head in human fashion.

Willow's lower lip quivers with guilt as she sniffles, "If I'd let you come home with me yesterday, this never would have happened."

Pal's eyes slit in smug pleasure, 'Aaaahh. That's it,' he murmurs in a coaxing, seductive tone, 'Come to kitty.'

"Whomever you belong to obviously isn't taking good care of you. They don't deserve you," Willow decides as she settles him more securely in her arms. "You're coming with me."

Victory trumpets sound. Pal's exultant voice rings, 'I am too good…' he winces as Willow touches a sore spot. 'Ouch! Get your fleshy tentacles off my gaping wounds! I might need that muscle one day.' Pal turns his head to glare at Willow.

Willow presses a soft kiss on Pal's forehead.

Pal sighs, "Ah well, it was worth it.' He nestles his head against Willow and closes contented eyes.

*

Buffy looks up as Willow walks in cradling Pal. Buffy cocks an eyebrow. "Just a matter of Will-power, eh?" She gives a teasing half circle shake of her head. "Just say no?"

Willow defends herself righteously, "He's hurt. I couldn't just leave him to suffer. Or maybe die even."

Pal's head pops up from his Willow head-rest. 'He?' he queries, astonished. 'I'm a he?' He manipulates his body so he can examine the evidence. 'Well, what do you know,' he says with bemusement, 'I have a gender. That's novel.'

Buffy frowns, "He looks familiar, somehow."

Willow's eyes go wide. "Familiar? Do you think maybe this is my familiar? I mean, I've never really thought about where they come from. How a witch gets a familiar. Maybe one just appears one day."

Buffy shrugs, "I don't know. Call Giles. And Willow," Buffy adds, gesturing significantly towards Amy's cage. "Maybe you'd better see how he and Amy interact before getting too chummy with him."

Willow grimaces and takes Pal over to Amy's cage, misgivings echoing in her body language.

Pal tilts a haughty chin. 'As if I'd ever entertain the idea of rat for…' Pal pauses his snoot-fest as he assesses this interesting situation. 'Well, well, well. What have we here? Did we get ourselves into a bind, dear? A bit of a stinky, I mean, sticky situation?'

'Up yours,' grunts Amy rat.

'I see that your personality is taking on properties of the shape your wearing,' Pal observes.

'Up yours,' chitters Amy rat.

Pal rolls his eyes, 'Ah yes, the scintillating conversation to be had with rats.' He turns his head disdainfully away, sniffing, 'Worse than humans. Silence can be golden.'

Willow yips a triumphant, "See?" to Buffy. "He isn't even interested in her. He's a good cat." Willow nods self-convincingly.

Buffy says dryly, "Yeah. He's a real Pal."

Pal whips his head toward Buffy and narrows his eyes, 'Hmm.'

Buffy leans back in a chair and plays with a pencil, whirling it around each finger in turn. She adds with irony, "And then there's the fact that the near fatal wounds on his body might be making him feel less than chipper. Perhaps at death's door, one is really not up to rat chasing."

Pal harrumphs, "No mere dog beating would keep me from hunting _anything_ I desire to hunt.' He mews weakly, sending hurt eyes Buffy's way.

Buffy jumps up to comfort him, suspicions forgotten. "Oh, the poor baby," she commiserates.

Pal arches into Buffy's hand, understandably smug, 'Putty in my hands.'

*

Sure she could do a better job, Buffy watches impatiently while Giles helps Willow, (who winces every time Pal winces) clean the last wound on Pal.

Giles splits his concentration by saying, "I looked up information on familiars, as you requested…"

Willow rubs Pal under his woundless chin which sends him into slit-eyed purr bliss. She prompts Giles, "And?"

Giles takes the rag he was using and stands up to toss it through the opening into the kitchen sink. "There seem to be very few solid facts and far too many fairy tales. In fact, there is no verifiable proof at all that familiars exist as anything supernatural."

Willow protests, "But Amy's mom…"

"Had a cat," Giles interjects.

"E I E I O," Buffy sings. They stare at her. Buffy shrugs, "I had to do it. It was an irresistible compulsion." Giles sighs.

Willow turns face back to Giles. "Well, what were some of the fairy tales, then?"

Giles mentally checks off the list in his head aloud, "One was that they enhance a witch's powers. Another is that the witch shifts shape into a cat or can send her mind into a familiar. Some books say that familiars are the protectors of the witch's magic, others that they protect their witch. No information agrees on every aspect and absolutely none offer concrete proof for their theories."

Willow slumps, "Well, that bites."

Giles smothers a grin at Willow's unexpected words. He supplies, "What about Tara? She might have some firsthand knowledge of this."

Willow purses thoughtful lips, "She had class orientation this morning, but she should be done by now. I'd like her meet my new friend Pal here, anyway." Willow gently hugs Pal to her bosom. "Now that he's patched up, I'll go check in with Tara. Pump her for information."

*

Tara answers Willow's knock. Willow enters with a bandaged Pal lounging happily in laziness along a shoulder.

"Hey," Willow greets with her smiley parts showing.

'Well, well,' Pal begins upon spying Tara. 'There's no business like other people's business.' He turns a Cheshire face to Willow. 'Met someone else special, did we? A werewolf and a wiccan. Your tastes don't exactly run to the straight and narrow, do they?' Pal leisurely licks a paw a rubs behind his ear. He asks, 'How do you feel about djinn?'

Willow notices Tara's face go pale.

"Are you okay?" she asks with concern.

Tara shakes it off. "Just a chill, I think. Do you sense something?"

A little black kitten behind Tara peeks her head out from beneath the bedcovers.

Pal gives an indulgent half-smile, "Ah, greetings little cousin."

Miss Kitty puffs large. She's too young to form words, but her body language screams, 'Stay away from my person.'

Pal is amused by Miss Kitty's attitude and says admonitorily, 'Now is that any way to treat a guest?' He admires the baby's gumption and deigns to add, 'Don't worry, I won't infringe. I have a person of my own to play with.'

Miss Kitty twitches an angry tail. She tries to communicate. 'Not play! Love, love,' she insists.

Pal purrs back with tender affection, 'Ah, little one, for a cat- they are the same thing.'

"Sense something?" Willow answers. "No." Willow passes her eyes around the room. "Wait." She looks at Pal. "Maybe it's this cat I found?"

Pal sighs with condescending fondness, 'Humans are so conveniently gullible.'

Tara stares at Pal penetratingly.

Willow amends, "Well, I guess he found me."

Pal partially retracts his generalization. "Okay, so I did pick a smart one.'

Willow continues, "You sense something special about him? I've been wondering if maybe he might be a familiar. Maybe my familiar?"

Tara without thinking, blurts, "He's not a cat."

Willow is taken aback, "What?"

"Look at him. He's following our conversation. He's intelligent."

Pal blinks long lashes at Tara, "I resemble that remark."

Willow shakes her head in confusion. "Of course he's a cat." She points at Pal arguing logically, "He purrs and everything."

Tara looks at Willow and starts to speak. Willow embraces full denial mode, interrupting, "An intelligent cat."

Tara smiles ruefully, "A paragon."

"That's true," Pal agrees.

`'Hmph,' grunts Miss Kitty.

Willow changes the subject, "Hey, you want to get something to eat?"

Pal perks his ears at the mention of food. 'Hey! You still haven't fed me, yet. I'm hungry, too.'

Tara notices Pal's reaction. She says wryly, "I think we'd better feed him, too. Otherwise we might end up being dinner."

Pal gazes at the human with admiration, stating, 'I do so admire an intelligent being.'

They exit the room, leaving the forlorn kitten mewing pitifully in the abandoned room. Pal, hard-hearted djinn, huffs, 'All right! Come along!' He teleports Miss Kitty onto his shoulder and grants her invisibility. As thunderous purrs tear up his tender eardrums, Pal grumps, 'Virtue is its own punishment.'

Later, as Tara and Willow sneak Pal under the cafeteria table, Pal pretends not to notice as the kitten snags several of the furtive morsels offered to him by the girls.

*

Tara and Willow go campus walking after dinner.

Pal's hair-trigger boredom sets in and he yawns to Miss Kitty, 'I'm going to visit another Willow. You want to do a little dimension hopping?'

Miss Kitty extends excited claws into Pal's shoulder by way of assent. Pal leaps off of Willow's shoulder.

Tara turns back to see a portal open in front of Pal with a blurry outline of Miss Kitty playing piggyback. Tara opens her mouth in dismay as Pal looks back and winks.

"Did you see that?" Tara exclaims to Willow. "Pal just disappeared into that hole!"

Willow obliviously answers, "He probably had to answer nature's call or something."

Tara stands dumbfounded in the presence of Willow's self-deception, "Nature's call?!"

*

Satisfaction oozes form the kitten as Pal and she travel to another dimension. There is nothing so pleasing as having one's curiosity satisfied. Pal responds with amusement, 'Yes, that's how it's done. You can try it on the way back.'

Miss Kitty signals her assent by kneading claws into Pal's furred shoulder.

CHAPTER TWO

It's dark outside city hall where a patch of air blurs and Pal steps onto the grass with his passenger. He sees Buffy and Willow talking and creeps toward them to catch their conversation.

Willow raises bare palms to Buffy. "No really. I'm a white hat, now! Gypsy curse comes with soul in five minutes or it's free." Earnest vibes sweat from Willow's aura.

Buffy cocks an incredulous head. Sarcastically, she notes, "It's so good to be home." She takes a deep breath of fetid air, "Where the lying demons roam." Buffy flips a stake from her back pocket where she can feel it pressing against her buttock. She announces drolly, "I think it's time to decrease the surplus vampire population."

'Oh good,' realizes Pal, 'I didn't miss a thing. Not that I doubted my ability to time it perfectly,' he adds.

Miss Kitty sends a '!" his mental way accompanied by and image of earth-tones Willow and leather Willow.

Pal verifies, 'Yes, she's a vampire in this dimension.'

Miss Kitty puffs up her fur to full plumpness.

Pal tsks, 'No need for that. This Willow isn't lying. She has a soul.'

The bushy tail makes a question mark shape in the air with a hind paw placed underneath.

'I know. I'll fill you in later. I want to enjoy the moment.' Pal turns back to Buffy and Willow.

"You can take me to Giles," offers Willow. "I'll let you tie me up and everything. He'll vouch for the soul installation."

"Like that is it?" Buffy insinuates as she looks Willow up and down. "Well, you're certainly dressed for bondage games."

Willow can't help a grin at Buffy's mockery. "I feel like I already know you," Willow teases wickedly. "I don't let just anyone tie me up."

"You make me feel so special," Buffy blinks back fake tears.

Willow offers her wrists for tying.

"So where's a rope?" Buffy asks. "Your brilliant plan doesn't work without rope."

"Do I have to think of everything?" Willow models her leather bodysuit. "Do you see any place I could be storing rope?"

Buffy shrugs and raises her stake, "I guess it's back to plan 'A'."

"Wait."

Buffy shifts impatiently, "Not much for the waiting."

Willow suggests, "You could walk me there with a stake at my back. A little unnerving for me, but I kinda want to stick around. I think this life is about to get really interesting." Willow turns around.

Buffy is unimpressed by Willow's speech. "If this is some kind of trap, you die first." Buffy presses the stake in until blood moistens the tip of it. "Let's go, vamperella."

"Ah, Buffy," Willow sighs with satisfaction. "I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Buffy pretends to stumble. "Oops, I'm feeling awfully clumsy today."

Willow responds wryly, "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

*

Pal follows discreetly as Buffy walks Willow into the mansion with the stake pointedly at Willow's back. Giles sees them and does a double take as Willow is clearly a captive. He frowns in concern. "What did she do?"

"What did I do?" barks Willow in affronted tones. "Typical. It must be the demon's doing." She adds snottily, "Like humans are above reproach."

Buffy and Giles wait pseudo-patiently for Willow to finish whining. Buffy ignores Willow as she asks, "Are we accepting demons into the Watcher's club, now? Because I thought I saw you at the anti-demon pep rally and I'm feeling out of the loop here."

Willow informs Giles, "She wants to be loopy." Willow turns and pats Buffy's forearm comfortingly. "Don't worry dear, you're a natural."

Buffy narrows her eyes threateningly, "I have a long, sharp hunk of wood pressed to your back just waiting for a chance to stick you."

Willow smiles seductively, "Now you're getting me all excited. The last person who promised me something along those lines was all talk." Willow pouts, "I was very disappointed."

Larry's eyes bug out a Willow's words. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

Buffy opens her mouth to offer a scathing retort, but Giles interrupts, "Girls, please!" He looks at Buffy. "I'm guessing we're talking to the correct owner of that body."

"Points for lofty I.Q.," Buffy acknowledges, nodding.

Larry frowns worriedly, "You're not going to puke on us, are you?"

Buffy says in sincere tones, "I don't know who you've been dating, but you need to go out with a better class of girl. You're not that ugly."

Giles forces himself not to smile and get back to the matter at hand. He gestures to Willow. "Your double found someone to do a spell to return Willow's soul."

"Like Angel," Buffy mentions.

"Who?" Giles asks.

"Yes," Willow nods. "You know, it hardly seems fair. The demon moves into my body and poof; there goes my soul. My soul is returned, but there is a lack of poof going on. I have to share. The demon didn't share. Why do I have to share my body? I don't _want_ to share!"

Buffy rolls her eyes at Willow's self-centered diatribe. "You were an only child, weren't you?"

"I'm talking here!"

Buffy continues calmly, "Having siblings teaches one how to share."

Willow places hands on squared hips. "And where is your multitude of brethren?"

"My body is demon free," taunts Buffy. "Too bad you got bit." She smacks her lips. "Careless of you."

A bit of a frantic look enters Giles expression.

"Like you've never made a mistake," retorts Willow, staring pointedly at the scar marring Buffy's face.

"Hey, I'm not the one sprouting fang whenever I get hungry. Too bad about chocolate." Buffy twists the sharp knife.

Willow's eyes gain a yellow rim, "You cold, heartless…"

Giles clears his throat deafeningly causing him to choke accidentally. He hacks on his epiglottis for a minute while the two combatants look on. When it seems he'll survive redfaced, Buffy turns back to Willow.

"Where were we? Heartless?"

Willow grins suddenly, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"It's kind of refreshing," Buffy allows.

Giles purses his mouth in exasperation.

Buffy explains, "That other dimension was a wonderful place to visit, but all that sweetness and light was starting to get on my nerves. I felt like I was on T.V."

Willow nods in exaggerated commiseration, exclaiming, "Me too! And the vampires there? Pathetic. Nobody has any standards there."

"I know!" Buffy agrees, "I couldn't even…"

Giles whimpers as they go on. And on. "Dear Lord, deliver me."

Nobody notices onlookers Pal and Miss Kitty. Eventually, Pal stretches his limbs and says to Miss Kitty, "Let's get you home."

The exhausted kitten doesn't even give a token protest.

*

Tara glances up from her book when the kitten proudly minces through its personally constructed portal. "There'll be no keeping you cooped up now," she observes wryly. "Did you have a good time?"

Miss Kitty walks over to Tara with the immense dignity of a grown cat and pauses near Tara's hand. Miss Kitty's arched neck clearly states, 'You may pet me now.' Tara responds to the invitation with proper speed and gratitude. Miss Kitty settles down with contented purrs and lets tired eyes drift close.

"So where's Pal?" Tara asks.

Miss Kitty's unconscious body can't respond even if she could speak English.

*

Pal trots alongside Buffy and human Willow. He listens with bemusement to their conversation.

"I'm telling you, big stars get tired of the fame, etc. and pay big bucks to stage their own deaths," Buffy insists.

"But Elvis?" Willow mentions doubtfully.

"Well, there's all those sightings of Elvis. And they never exhumed the body." Buffy points out, adding, "And Marilyn Monroe; she's another."

Willow scoffs, "Marilyn Monroe! Hello? Dead body in the bathroom? No pulse? Ring any bells?"

Buffy looks over Willow's shoulder at the bulgy faced group behind her. "Speak of the pulseless…"

Willow glances behind her and sees the vamps. "You think Elvis and Marilyn are vampires?"

Buffy begins, "No, I think- down!"

Buffy bashes a vamp in the face over Willow's ducked body. Pal sits back on happy haunches to revel in the show.

Pal's cat smile is in place as he touts, "Better than the fans at football games in Europe." He nods to himself, "And all for free."

Buffy connects with a blow that makes a vampire stagger.

"Go Buffy! Kick their ugly demon butts! Yeah ! Get 'em." Pal continues his unheard monologue of cheers, 'Whip 'em, crack 'em, rap 'em, stick 'em…" until he notices one of the vampires grab Willow by the shoulder.

"A nice, light snack," murmurs the vampire eagerly as he pulls Willow's head to the side with a fistful of her hair.

Pal's fur knifes out from his body. Claws switchblade out from their retracted positions. "You know what they say about a sucker?" he asks no one in particular. Pal's eyes suddenly burn with violet fire.

Screaming cat profanities, Pal leaps into the vamp's chest, claws biting deep for fleshy purchase. His flickering violet eyes meeting the vampire's, Pal vows, "Rue the day you were ever bitten, fiend. Now you're mine to take."

The vampire let's out a high-pitched note of terror any castrato would envy. Needing no air, the vocal siren doesn't quit until Buffy stakes him. Pal lands on the ground, rubbing in the ashes of his enemy.

Buffy is a little taken aback at the whole surreal moment. "Okay," she offers tentatively.

Willow jumps to her side excitedly, "Did you _see_ that?! He protected me! He must be my familiar!" Willow blinks and looks around, "Wait a minute. Where'd he go?"

The first stirrings of concern for Willow's mental stability manifest themselves in Buffy's tone of voice. "That didn't seem odd to you?"

"What?"

"Did you see that vampire?" Buffy asks.

Willow grimaces at the fingerprints on her shirt. "Ugh, he was dirty!"

Buffy tries again, "Did you _hear_ that vampire?

Willow looks confused, "What?"

Buffy gets seriously worried. Willow is the upbeat, optimistic type, but this is carrying the glass half full scenario to delusional heights. "I think we'd better go see Giles," Buffy decides.

Willow is reluctant. "We need to find Pal first. He's probably very scared."

"I don't know about Pal," Buffy mutters. "But I'm really getting there." Audibly she replies, "Somehow my doubts about that are huge. As is Paul Bunyan."

Willow gives her a quizzical glance. "Huh?"

*

Pal lounges on a tombstone in the nearby cemetery. The earth beneath it boils. A familiar vampire crawls from it. It smoothes dirty hands over shaking body. "It was a dream," he quavers. "A strange, bad dream."

Pal yawns, baring gleaming incisors. "Miss me?" he asks at the end note of the yawn, making it audible to the vampiric ear.

The vampire jumps, shrieking. He turns a reluctant head around slowly. He sees Pal grooming himself. Pal mentions, "I really think I should take measures to ensure that you'll never be able to inflict any further harm on my little friend, Willow."

The vampire stutters, "I c-couldn't have known. I didn't know she was yours!"

"Contrary to popular mythology, my little patheticism, ignorance is not bliss." Pal carefully wraps a sand-textured tongue around each claw as he continues, "In fact, evolution does not favor the ignorant. Do you hear any gazelles complaining, 'But I didn't know I needed to avoid cheetahs'? No, you don't –because those gazelles are dead."

The vampire pleads, "I was hungry. I couldn't help myself."

"Oh!" exclaims Pal with understanding. "You were hungry! Well, in that case; wait." Pal cocks his head as if thinking. "For some reason I'm okay with the evil dead going hungry. Huh. Imagine that. Guess I'm just a narrow-minded bigot." Pal comes up with the perfect spanking. He focuses intent eyes on the vampire. "Hungry, eh? I think, yes. Teeth."

The horrified vampire brings hands up to his mouth, feeling around frantically. He slurs, "Please, just kill me."

Pal pretends confusion, "But how is that fun for me? It's been so been so long since I had a toy," he sighs with happy, possessive tones.

Willow's voice sounds in the distance, calling Pal's name.

"Oop." Pal jumps from the tombstone. "Gotta go. That's my ride." He looks over his shoulder as he leaves, saying, "Be seeing you, Toothless."

Toothless crawls the rest of the way from his grave, sobbing.

CHAPTER THREE

Giles listens intently to evens as Buffy describes them, translating her words into English as she speaks them. When Buffy pauses for breath, Giles turns with speedy earnestness to Willow. "Whatever your cat is, Willow- it's not a familiar."

Buffy yearns to finish her story, but is silent out of respect for Giles' lecture. Maybe he can bore some sense into Willow.

"Demons don't become near catatonic from fear when faced with a cat," Giles points out. "Familiar or not."

Pal pipes up, "Demons are pussies!" He chuckles at his own pun.

Willow says wistfully, "He couldn't maybe be a really scary familiar?"

Giles merely cocks some brow skin at her.

Willow gives the little pout of the denied, "But I like him and I want him to stay with me."

"I'm going nowhere soon," Pal supplies helpfully.

Buffy suggests jokingly, "I hear if you neuter a tom cat they're less likely to take off."

Giles subconsciously crosses his legs.

Pal sends Buffy an aghast mien. "After all I've done for you!" He mutters his hurt feelings. "I may be familiar with the neuter state, but it seems to me that the neutered state is something else altogether."

Giles rescues the tail-twitching feline with, "Not a good idea. Anything that can terrify a demon would probably take it amiss if you start chopping off parts."

Pal straightens from his strangely hunched position. "Very astute old chap," he applauds. "I might take it amiss. Nothing worse than amissed djinn."

Willow picks Pal up protectively. "I would never let anyone hurt one hair on his body," she proclaims.

"Hey!" Pal defends indignantly. "I just saved _you_, remember? You're the one who needs help."

Willow continues in soft, loving tones, "He's my kitty." She kisses and cuddles Pal over and over. "My little buddy." Kiss, kiss.

Involuntary purrs rumble from Pal. "Oh, what the hell," Pal capitulates as he arches into the caresses with utter, joyful abandon. "Maybe I do need help."

Giles looks a little ill. He tries to warn Willow, "You must allow for the possibility that Pal is a demon."

Pal pauses to glare at Giles, "I'm no fallen angel!"

Buffy comments with a shake of her head, "It's so eerie when he does that."

Xander catches that as he's walking in and jokes, "When who does what? Is Giles talking again?"

Giles stares pointedly at Xander, unimpressed.

"When Pal follows our conversations like that," Buffy explains, ignoring the byplay.

Pal informs the oblivious crowd, "I'm just, well, you could say I'm an angel whose time of service is not yet come. Yes," he nods pleased with his explanation. "Meanwhile, I'm just amusing myself as best I know how. Whiling away the dull millennia." Pal flitters his delicate ears. "Though I must say, this particular millennium is shaping up to have more of an edge," he flicks claws from paws briefly, "than most."

Willow continues petting the exquisitely soft fur as she vows, "Well, he's one of the good guys, whatever his species may be. I love him exactly the way he is."

"Um," Pal mentions, "I don't look like this, exactly."

"As far back as I can remember, I've wanted a puppy." Willow expounds.

Pal rears back in horror, "To think I respected you."

"But now that Pal is in my life, I know that no puppy could give me as much pleasure and happiness as he does."

Pal settles back, somewhat placated. "Well, one is always growing in wisdom as one experiences more of life. I'll not hold the grossly skewed taste of your youthful ignorance against you."

Xander perks up at Willow's speech. "Pleasure? What kind of pleasure?"

Willow throws Xander's male remark the patented double-X gender look of resigned disgust. "Just normal, non-demony pleasure. Not the kind you're used to. The pet and person variety."

Pal gazes at Willow with earnest, wide kitten-eyes, "But you're not just a pet to me, Willow. I swear sometimes I even forget you're a human."

Buffy shifts, "Well, he did protect you Willow." She shrugs. "That gives him the benefit of the doubt in my book. But he's not a cat, Will."

"True," allows Pal, "But I prefer to think that cats aren't me."

"It seems to me that he's here with an agenda." Buffy points out. "He won't be around forever."

"Untrue," Pal corrects.

Buffy gestures to Giles, Xander and herself, "We just don't want you hurt. Physically or emotionally."

Willow gives them a sweet, touched smile. "I love you guys, too." She hugs Pal, smooching his beneficent head. "But passing through or not, I'm going to make the most of the time I do have with him. It's better than living in fear of what might happen and never letting my heart open."

Giles smiles with pleased parental condescension, "When did you get so smart?"

Willow answers smugly, "I was always this smart. But I see by your statement that _your_ I.Q. has hit a growth spurt."

"That's my girl," chuckles Pal.

*

Willow's on her way out the door to purchase some school books she'll need. She turns to Pal, "I'm going shopping. You wanna come with?"

Pal gives her a scooching gesture with his paw. "You go on. I'm going to visit your deader half the next dimension over."

Willow thinks nothing of his obvious understanding of her question. "Okay, then," she says cheerily.

She leaves. He leaves.

*

Pal portals into an unused closet in Giles' mansion. Pal peeks out before sliding to the library where he hears Buffy conversing with Giles and Willow.

"You're going back to Ohio?" Giles repeats dumbly as a strange sense of loss fills him.

Willow pouts, "Isn't that just like a human. Run away when the demons get going."

Buffy ignores Willow's remark, explaining, "There's something I have to do there. But I'm not staying there. I'm needed here more, I believe."

Giles refuses to be insulted. "The Council agrees?"

"Didn't ask," Buffy says with a shrug. "I'm doing what I feel is right."

Giles stutters, "But, you work for…"

"I work for humanity," Buffy interrupts. "They're a part of that, not the totality of it. Anyway, I'll be coming back here for training with you."

Now Giles is stumped. "What about your Watcher?"

Buffy is somewhat less patient than her Sunnydale double. "If I'm relocating here, Giles, you're going to be my Watcher."

Giles speaks past a lump in his throat, "You're choosing me?"

Buffy refuses to get sentimental. "I met your double, Giles," she informs him. "He is a formidable trainer. He made me memorize a list of my weaknesses to give you that you need to train me out of."

Giles grows a little smile. "Formidible? Well," his chin raises in excitement. "A list!? Marvelous! Tell me."

Buffy gives him a look of pretend dread and hands him the list she'd already written down.

Giles stares at several pages of words sprouting from his hand, "Good Lord!"

Willow looks in reluctant wistfulness at Giles' future work. "Great," she says sarcastically. "He's got homework. What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

Buffy suggests, "You could go over it with him. You could help plan a training program to deliver me out of my weaknesses. You could be the tool that hones my Slayer skills."

At their mutual looks of horror, Buffy grins. "Or you could come with me. I might need backup."

"Thank God!" Willow prays.

Giles tosses her an expression of insulted Brit, asking pointedly, "And just how are you going to manage that? The few commercial flights still available are in the day."

Buffy answers, "I travel light." She points a shoulder towards Willow. "She can be my luggage."

Willow frowns doubtfully, "I'm kind of big for luggage."

"Don't worry," comforts Buffy, "if you can fit into that outfit, you can fit into a duffel bag."

Willow just smiles as if complimented, mentally preparing a demoralizing comeback.

"You're not worried someone curious might open it and stake her?" Giles wonders.

"I don't have a problem with that," off-cuffs Buffy. She turns her face to Willow. "You?"

"If it's in the sun, they won't need to stake me," reminds Willow. "If it's not in the sun, well, I could use snack on the flight."

"Anybody willing to stake a vampire is on the side of good, Willow," Buffy wags her finger. "No eating the good guys."

"I wouldn't bite them all the way dead," Willow insists. Buffy gives her a look and she subsides with a verbal pout, "Somehow I don't think they'll have pig's blood in the fridge for me. A girl gets hungry."

*

Larry, Oz, Jenny and Giles see the duo off. Willow sits up in an unzipped duffel bag. "I just realized something," Willow says with horror. "Two plane changes, three hours of layovers are going to make me mad with boredom! I can't do this!"

Jenny asks, "Can't you just sleep?"

"Not much for sleeping," Willow shakes her head. "I've done it maybe twice since I died."

Larry straightens his broad shoulders proudly. "I thought of this." He steps forward and graciously hands her a package. "Oz and I bought this for you."

Willow begins to unwrap it.

Larry exclaims, "No! You'll ruin the surprise. Open it on the plane."

Willow rolls her eyes and complies. Oz walks over beside her and kneels. "I'm here to zip you up," he informs.

"How disappointing," Willow murmurs.

Oz's eyes twinkle, "There's no meal on this flight, so…" He hands her a cold pack and a baggy of blood.

Willow strokes a finger down the side of his jaw. "You're so sweet," she whispers as he swallows back the need to join her in the duffel bag.

Buffy interrupts, annoyed, "Where's my meal and boredom relieving present?"

"Talk to the person sitting beside you," suggests Larry. "That's always fun."

"Yeah, if you like people," Buffy grumbles.

Larry says with sickening optimism, "In that case, you can steal the meal of the person sitting next to you. Either way, you come out ahead."

Buffy disallows wryly, "For some reason I'm not comfortable with stealing someone's food…" she sees a bag of chips peeking out of Larry's jacket pocket. "Unless they're you." Buffy snatches the chips.

Larry's hurt by this. "Hey! You could've just asked!"

Buffy keeps a firm grip on the chips. "And if I cared what your answer was, I would have."

Larry pouts, mumbling, "I like the other Buffy, better."

Buffy punches him on the shoulder, sneaking a buck into his back pocket. "So do I, Larry. So do I."

Perversely, Larry feels better, despite the bruise swelling up on his deltoid.

Buffy turns to see the duffel bag zipped and ready to go. She picks it up like it holds a down comforter and flings it over her shoulder. She hears a muffled shout through the densely wrapped interior of her luggage and smiles wickedly to herself.

The group watches her go.

Oz comments, "She really is different from the other one."

Giles allows, "Yes. But I think her hardness is an asset in this world's situation. Plus, I believe being in that other dimension changed her from when I conversed with her before."

"Changed her how?" Jenny asks with interest.

"For the better," Giles responds. "She's far more relaxed…"

Larry interjects, "That's relaxed?"

"You should have seen her before the big switch," Giles shakes his head and continues, "She seems a lot more confident now, too. Give her some time. I think when she really knows and trusts us, things will run perfectly with her."

"Hmph," belches Larry skeptically. "I want my chips."

*

Willow opens her gift in complete darkness. She laughs as she feels it vibrate under her hand. Just the kind of thing Larry would think to give. Then it lights up. Contrary to her initial impression, it ends up being a personal organizer. It contains some photos of her childhood with Xander and bonus- some video games!

Willow mumbles, "The other thing would have been a better idea," as she starts Street Fighter.

*

Oblivious to the cold, Ohio air, Willow asks, "So why _are_ we here?"

Buffy stops in front of a small, yellow house. Memories overwhelm her.

_Buffy jiggles an impatient leg while seated at her kitchen table. She'd been on patrol until the wee hours rode into the sunrise, but she's pretty sure mom hadn't come home last night. Worry gnaws at a Slayer stomach. It is becoming apparent that for some reason, Slayer stomachs are not immune to ulcers._

_'I should have told her I am the Slayer,' Buffy self-berates for the 100__th__ time. 'That she needs to be extra careful. My identity is no longer a secret to the evil undead, the bad, the ugly, why should it be a secret from my mom?"_

_"Buffy?" comes Joyce's voice from the door. "I lost my key. Can you let me in?"_

_Joy stops Buffy's heart for a single stutter before racing in happy booms. Buffy jumps to the door and opens it, smiling. Joyce picks up some packages and returns the smile._

_'I'm going to tell her tonight,' Buffy promises herself, 'No more lies, no more secrets.'_

_"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to let me in?" laughs Joyce._

_That is when Buffy knows. It's too late to tell her mother all her secrets, all her fears. Joyce Summers is dead. _

_The vampire sees the change in Buffy's expression. It raises an entreating hand, "Buffy, I can explain…"_

_It moves like her, looks like her, sounds like her. Buffy chokes out, "Explain how you killed my mother? Give me a blow by blow description?" Buffy slams the door in the vampire's face as visions of her mother's last moments play different, morbid scenarios in her mind. 'Mom, mom, I'm sorry,' Buffy weeps, sinking to her knees. She bangs the floor with her fists. 'Mom, I wasn't there. I could have saved you. Mom.'_

_Outside, the vampire raises arms wide and bathes rapturously in the Slayer's pain, face lifted in radiant peace. It jumps when the door is flung wide by a raging virago. Buffy raises a stake high. In the split second hesitation of plunging death into her mother's body, the vampire flees. Numbly, Buffy watches it go. Carefully, Buffy grabs the door knob and closes herself in the empty house. The door hangs awkwardly on torn hinges. Buffy slips in the fresh blood cradled in the dents on the floor. She falls sloppily. Cheek pressed to the hard wood, the walls seem far away as the floor rises up to crush her. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. No tears will come this time; no apologies. Mom is dead and all Buffy has left is her destiny. _

"We're here to kill a vampire," she answers.

"It lives here?" Willow points disbelievingly at the innocuous portrait of suburbia.

Buffy ignores the question. "Let's get some supplies," she says bluntly, striding up the walkway.

"Um," begins a confused Willow, "Okay."

As Buffy grasps the knob, it turns in her hand, unlocked. As she and Willow step into the living room, Joyce looks up.

Joyce smiles, "Buffy, you're home."

"I guess it was able to move in when I told Giles I'd be living in Sunnydale," Buffy remarks too quietly.

Willow freezes as understanding ices her veins. Feeling sick, Willow whispers, "Buffy, I'm sorry." Willow gestures to the vamp wearing Joyce's skin, "You want me to do it?"

"I wish," Buffy smiles sadly. "I think it will take the both of us."

"What!?" Willow blurts. "That?!" She glances at the innocuous seeming Joyce. "Why?"

Buffy says simply, "Because she's my mom."

After a long, bitter-fought battle, Willow watches as Buffy stakes Joyce with one of the broken furniture parts strewn around. Willow grits viciously against the pain, screeching, "The both of us? We should have brought a tank and some wooden-bullet machine guns! Holy water grenades would have been nice," she adds bitterly.

"What?" Buffy queries with practiced innocence. "We did it."

Willow says numbly, "I lost an arm." She points to her asymmetry with blank horror.

"Oh," Buffy acknowledges. She perks up, "Nope," Buffy points amid the rubble. "There it is." She walks over and picks it up. She gives the dripping stump to Willow.

Willow stares at its detached state with incomprehension. "My arm," she mentions.

"Oh, stop it," Buffy fusses. She grabs the arm back from Willow and places it against its socket, holding it there firmly. "I didn't think vampires could go into shock," Buffy speaks offhand.

"It's not working," Willow worries. "I'm going to be a cripple. A vamp cripple. I'll be the new blonde jokes. I'll hear things like, it wasn't me, it was the one-armed vamp."

Buffy can't quite stifle a snicker.

Willow mourns, "It's already begun." A look of panic crosses her face and she screams, "Buffy!" as her vampire visage forces itself across her features. "Buffy, run! I'm starved!"

Buffy rolls her eyes. "Hang on."

"This is no time for sick jokes," Willow slurs around her fangs.

Buffy grabs Willow's attached arm and has Willow hold her free arm in place. Buffy grabs a knife from a hidden sheath. "If there's one thing dimension hopping has taught me- it's that there's always time for a joke."

Willow stares at the glittering knife. "That won't do any good. You need a stake." Willow pauses as a thought occurs, "Hey, how did you sneak that in past airport security?"

Buffy slices a cut in her arm and stares Willow right in her yellow eyes, "You don't want to know."

Awe melts the vampire features from under Willow's skin as tears of kindredship form. "I kinda love you." She looks at Buffy's wounded arm in confusion, "What are you doing?"

Buffy offers her arm, barking, "No teeth! I'll stake you before I'll go around looking like some vampire junkie."

"Buffy…" Willow whispers.

Buffy points impatiently to the blood dripping to the ground. Uncomfortable with the tender note in Willow's voice she lectures, "There are vampires starving in Africa even as we speak." Buffy places her arm at Willow's mouth.

Willow latches on with lips, but the blood barely colors her tongue with its slow seep. Instinct brings her teeth to Buffy's skin. She feels a sharp point at her solar plexus and pauses.

"Ah, ah, ah," admonishes Buffy, "no teeth."

Willow makes a whiny noise in the back of her throat and stares yearningly at Buffy with big, golden eyes.

"Don't test me," Buffy says with steel in her voice.

Willow forces her demon to patience. A minute later, Buffy comments, "I think it's working."

"Mmmm," Willow agrees with a moan of pleasure.

Buffy clarifies, "I mean, I think your arm is reattaching itself."

Willow removes her mouth to inquire with pleasure, "It is?"

Buffy snatches her arm away from Willow. Willow wistfully watches dinner walk away from the table. She ventures, "I wasn't done."

Buffy denies this with multiple scoffing facial expressions, "You were so done. You were basking. You had afterglow face. It was," Buffy shudders, "_very_ disturbing."

"My victims never seemed to mind," Willow deadpans.

"Your victims were dead," Buffy argues.

"There is that," Willow agrees too amiably. She adds, "Xander never minded."

Buffy sneers, "Xander was into girls."

"He certainly was," Willow smirks.

Buffy swipes her hand downward emphatically. "This conversation is hereby ended."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Willow inquires rhetorically.

"Your arm is dripping," Buffy mentions to change the subject.

Willow frantically repositions her arm, glaring at Buffy. "You could have said something a little sooner."

"And interrupted you?" Buffy looks surprised. "That would have been rude."

Willow can't help a grin, anger forgotten in the glow of the dark humour bonding moment. After the leak stops, she looks around at the scene of destruction. Buffy's former home has a ghost house feel.

"Why didn't you re-ensoul her like me?" Willow finally gets the courage to ask. "Why kill her?"

Buffy answers quietly, "It was what she wanted."

Pal sighs and wipes leaking eyes. He portals back to check on his punished play-toy.

CHAPTER FOUR

Pal watches as two girls emerge from the Bronze and walk into the night. A vampire slinks out of the alley. As it attacks the girls, they see its face and scream. The vampire grabs one of the trembling snacks and his lips peel back to reveal pale, pink gums. The would-be victim giggles in hysteria. Toothless releases her, stung. Pal waves a happy tail at the girls as they escape into their vehicle and burn rubber.

Spike watches the scene from a dark pocket of shade. He raises his bottle in a mock toast. "Another emasculated vampire; maybe we should start a support group." Spike minces a few steps and proclaims in falsetto, "Hi, my name is Spike and I'm an E.V." He stops, thoughtfully. "Maybe I should talk to the bloke. There's a story there. And I'm willing to bet Miss Stuffy Summers has a lead role in it." Spike follows in the last seen direction of the toothless vampire. Pal pads soundlessly behind him.

*

Spike and Toothless reminisce over a pitcher of blood at Willy's place.

Pal yawns, "What a pair of whiners. Trying to outdo each other with 'I'm more pathetic than you are' stories. Like that's a contest anyone with any self-respect at all would want to win." He starts to stretch as if to leave when he scents a spicy presence being added to the bland night's stew.

Spike pontificates, "Well, at least you can still hurt people. A good set of dentures or a sharp knife and you're back in business. All of my nourishment is about 12 degrees Celsius, now. No variety." He points forlornly to his mug. "And that little brown ring that forms on the inside of the cup; don't you just hate that?"

Toothless agrees, "Yeah. You know, a knife's not a bad idea, but dentists tend to work those lethal daylight hours." He raises his glass to Spike, "But thanks for the thought."

Spike leans casually back, projecting nonchalance. "I think we can help one another. I might know a guy. I help you with your orthodontic issues, you help me with my culinary issues."

Riley appears from around the corner where he'd been eavesdropping. "I've taken some psychology courses. Maybe I can help you both to resolve your issues."

"If it isn't the boy scout," Spike sneers. "Slumming, are we?"

"Does your presence here make this a slum?" Riley pretends to think about it as he finally nods in slow agreement. "I guess it does. But how was I to know that you were here, degrading the quality of this establishment?"

Spike is less than intimidated. "Yeah. Willy's place, the five star all-you-can-be-eaten diner. A real classy stop."

"About your little plot before you changed the subject," Riley smiles coldly. "I only really heard the punchline. Don't you just hate it when you miss the beginning of a really good joke?"

"Very witty," Spike growls. "Be still my intellectual arousal. Sod off."

Riley gives a surface friendly warning wrapped in a reverse psychology matrix. "Now, you wouldn't want to offend me, would you, Spike?"

Unable to resist the bait, Spike barks a blunt laugh, "Or what? You'll stake me…" he points to Toothless, "and my little friend, too."

Riley follows the direction of Spike's finger to gaze at Toothless who attempts to look menacing. Toothless growls a little too enthusiastically and reveals gum. Riley gets a funny look on his face and tries to peer more closely.

"What happened to the fangs, friend?" Riley oozes false sympathy. "Is there some kind of new vampire plague in Sunnydale that only strikes the enamel of the undead?"

The humiliated vampire ignores the question with an embarrassed set to his shoulders.

Riley picks at Toothless, "Open your mouth. Let me see."

Spike blusters, "You get your jollies from taking potshots at the handicapped?

"I get my jollies from eliminating evil," Riley explains with frightening candor, "If he gets mad enough, he'll follow me outside and I can kill him."

Spike responds to Riley like one does to someone especially stupid. "And you don't think telling him your plan will nullify it?"

Riley's lips quirk in a small, villainous smile. He unsheathes a glittering knife and draws the edge slowly along his jugular. "Vampires aren't known for their self control." A thin, red line appears on Riley's neck.

Toothless' eyes bulge. His hands start to shake. He has yet to taste human blood on draught.

Riley looks Toothless straight in his topaz eyes as tension sings between them. "No teeth needed," he whispers almost seductively.

Spike watches in flat disbelief, "And you lot say _I'm_ evil."

Riley lowers the blade and saunters out of the bar. Toothless' burning orbs follow every footstep. When Riley disappears from view, Toothless starts to rise.

Putting out an arm to stop Toothless, Spike warns, "Don't let the big side of beef tempt you. You play that bull, you'll get the wooden horn."

Toothless looks back woefully, "Does it really matter?"

"Go then," blasts Spike, pissed. "If you've got a stake wish, you're of no use to me anyway." He gives Toothless the shunning shoulder and chugs his red brew.

With nothing to lose, Toothless walks to the exit. When his foot meets the sidewalk, a well-placed crossbow bolt meets its target. Ashes gather around the bolt in concentric circle until Toothless collapses.

Seconds later, Spike moseys out and kicks at a too-neat pile of dust. "That didn't take long. So much for my new mate."

Overtones of false sympathy can't hide the mild sarcasm in Riley's voice. "Yeah, all bark and no bite. You'd have made a great team." Riley widens sad eyes. "Too bad that dream is gone, now."

"Yes, my bright-eyed dream is shattered," Spike mourns, "Now I'll never find my ruby slippers."

Buffy approaches from out of Spike's line of vision.

Riley is confused by the ruby slipper statement, "What?"

"Go home, soldier-boy," Spike waves. "Your work here is done. I've got better things to do than hang around with one of the Scooby gang."

"Like what," Riley asks in mocking disbelief.

"Like anything up to and including hour long torture and death," Spike barks.

Right behind Spike's shoulder, Buffy comments, "We love you, too, Spike."

Spike leaps in startlement and gives Buffy a freaked out look. The action over, Pal hums to himself and says, "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment."

Buffy turns disinterestedly away from Spike and asks Riley, "Shall we?"

"We shall," grins Riley goofily.

The totally forgotten Spike watches moodily as they walk away together.

*

Toothless emerges halfway from his grave. He rests his elbows on the ground in front of him and sighs in utter misery. Two tears make silent tracks down his face as he sings with much spit and slur- 'Nobody knows the trouble I've seen, nobody knows my sorrow…"

Pal claps soundless paws and joins Toothless in the final verse. When it's over, Pal mentions to the shuddering vamp, "I heard Spike's idea about the knife. Quite ingenious in its obviousness."

Toothless waits resigned for the punchline.

"If you think to take action with any kind of weapon and hurt my little pet- think again, toy. And then think again."

Toothless looks down at stumps where his hands used to be. He screams. Pal returns his hands to Toothless. Or most of his hands, anyway. One pinky is still missing. "Just a little reminder," Pal smiles smoothly before teleporting away.

Even the blues don't comfort Toothless this time as he sobs and rubs his pinky stump over and over.

*

Buffy asks Riley as they walk the darkened streets, "Do you have any access to Professor Walsh's files?"

Pal trots along behind them.

Riley answers, "Not really. Why?"

"Some ex-Initiative types were hired by Wolfram and Hart to put a chip in Angel's head. They need to know how reverse it."

"This is a bad thing?" questions Riley. "Now he can't hurt humans."

"Wolfram and Hart is a lawfirm," informs Buffy.

"Oh," Riley speaks with instant understanding.

"Any humans Angel hurts are doing evil. And besides that, his soul is creating unforeseen side effects in the chip's programming."

Riley tries to keep his face calm and the eager curiousity from his voice as he wonders, "Side effects. No kidding. Are they really bad?"

"Riley, please," Buffy responds with fond exasperation.

Riley grins at her sheepishly. "I'll break into her old office," he offers, "see if I can find anything."

Buffy gives him a look of doubt. "Mmhm."

Riley raises one hand. "I promise I'll give the effort 100%. We can break into the old Initiative headquarters if we need to. If it can be found I'll find it." Riley pauses for effect. "I don't think we'll need to go underground, though. Professor Walsh was a computer buff. I'll get her office computer and her disks. If Willow can give me a hand with any needed hacking, I'm betting you'll find what you need."

Buffy leans into his side, hugging him close while whispering, "Thank you."

"Anything for you," Riley responds generously. "Even rescuing your old boyfriends."

Buffy rubs a hand across his abdomen, giving him a mischievous smile, "I'll let you give him the information you find. You can rub it in that he got caught."

Naughty anticipation lights Riley's face. "You'd do that for me?"

"Anything for you," echoes Buffy, leaning in for a kiss. "Is it true that you knew right away that I wasn't me when my double lived in my body?" Buffy asks, pleased.

"Hmhm," Riley assents, pleased with himself.

"Did you guess before or after she, um, threw up?" Buffy inquires.

"Threw up?" Riley asks, confused. "She didn't throw up."

Buffy stops snuggling. "She didn't?"

"You did?" Riley asks irrelevantly.

"What's this about, Buffy?" Riley asks the disturbed Buffy.

Pal rolls kitty eyes, "There's a price for everything, Slayer or you don't appreciate it when you receive it. And you certainly don't get wish fulfillment for free; no matter how good a cat massage you give."

Buffy eyes the world around her with doubled suspicion. Some things go beyond rational explanation. Some things aren't about logic, coincidence or even luck. Some thing is out to get Buffy the first and only Buffy the first. There comes a point when Buffy must embrace the truth. 'Someone doesn't like me. It's one thing to know that evil doers go after the Slayer.' Buffy worries in the quiet of her mind, 'it's another thing to wonder who's after _me_.' It's enough to make one paranoid.

Pal, not being a mind reader, is oblivious to the extra mental trauma he has inflicted on Buffy as a little cat-sized blur appears before him and Pal steps through to visit another Buffy.

*

Buffy and air temperature Willow patrol, hoping to catch a few demons before bedtime. Pal materializes from his dimensional portal and spies his entertainment before him. He follows at a discreet distance, ducking behind the occasional tree to hide.

"I'm hungry," complains Willow.

"Didn't you just eat?" Buffy sighs.

"Sort of," pouts Willow. "Dead pig's blood. But I just saw a cat and it made me want a little snack."

Pal's fur expands with affront, "She can't possibly be referring to me."

Secret adorer of small animals, tough as nails Buffy can't hide her horror. "You will not be eating a cat. Unless," Buffy adds with a grimace, "Is it already dead?"

"Ew! No. I'm just bored," Willow admits with a long-suffering sigh. "There's been no action and I want to do a little hunting. A nourishing drink after a successful hunt is just frosting on my adventure cake."

A peeved Pal stalks right up to them. "I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense right now." He stiffens his tail and points it toward Willow. "Hunt me! You're as clueless in this world as you are in the other, Ms. Jaded Sophisticate."

Buffy notices his presence. "Doesn't the cat have to run away in order for you to hunt it?"

Oblivious to Pal's tirade at her feet, Willow answers, "Oh it'll run. Animals are always terrified of me." She continues with smug assurance, "I think they can sense how dangerous I am."

Pal takes his cue by promptly rubbing up against her leg and purring at 200 decibels. Willow looks down, mortified disgust marring her features. "I should kill you for that alone," she declares.

Hearing that, Buffy starts to laugh so hard she chokes with it.

"Hunt me, indeed!" Pal mutters as he rubs a bit more fur into her leather. Willow would be finding it for years to come. Just when a day might come that she'd forget the need for humility, a little tickling hair would remind her. Pal goes on, "Infant! You wouldn't know a hunt if it bit you in the ass!" Stretching to his full kitty length, Pal promptly sinks little teeth into undead buttock.

Willow shrieks with pain, anger and utter befuddlement. Buffy rolls on the ground, holding her laughter-aching stomach. Willow's face goes vampy and she reaches for a slippery Pal. Evading her with embarrassing ease, Pal trots over to Buffy's supine form.

"Some help you are, Slayer," he complains, "and after all I've done for you, too." He turns, raises his tail and sprays Buffy with urine.

Willow is startled into laughing. Her intention to attack Pal is stymied by uncontrollable snickers. Buffy's own laughter cuts off like a knife to the throat.

Buffy frowns at Willow's hilarity. "Yeah, this is real funny. You only got bit." She gets gingerly to her feet, keeping dripping arms well away from her body. Buffy shakes her arms a bit. "I got pissed on."

"Yeah," Willow agrees with unkind laughter. "I got pissed off, but you got pissed on. I definitely prefer teeth to trickle." Willow cackles wickedly over her pun until Pal, who listens to their quips with tight lips, abruptly rounds his urinary tract toward Willow and lets fly.

"It's important to get a nice, even spray going in order to get maximum coverage," Pal says with QVC intonation.

Willow's laughter at Buffy's expense evolves into a scream of rage. Buffy gazes at the putridly wet leather and comments, "Who would have thought that cat had so much piss in him?" After a pause, she continues, "I want to laugh at you, but I smell too bad."

Willow doesn't comment on the lack of logic in Buffy's statement because she understands it perfectly. "Let's head back to the mansion." Buffy nods agreement.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

CHAPTER FIVE

Giles looks up from his books as Buffy and Willow enter the library. His nose wrinkles. Disconcertedly, he gives the air a tentative sniff. Frowning, he takes a deep breath and gags. Once he recovers, Giles starts to chuckle a little. "Did you two get into another pissing contest?" Chuckle, chuckle. "That's no way to settle an argument."

Willow rounds on him menacingly. "Funny man," she gestures, "Come over here and say that."

"I'd really rather not," Giles states bluntly.

"Afraid?" mocks Willow.

"Overwhelmed, one might say," Giles allows, "with fear for my olfactory system. It might never recover from close contact with your current odor."

Willow huffs, "You." She puffs, "English." She blows,"Bast-…"

"Now, now," Giles chides. "Resorting to epithets only displays a sad lack of education. Surely, you can come up with something with a little more bite than a tired cliché."

Willow rises to the challenge. "You aging, decaying husk of a would-be man. When you're 80 and sitting in the stench of your own filth, I'll still be young and stronger than ever. Keep your pathetic, dull, over intellectualized opinions to you short-lived self. I've got better things to do with my eternity than to listen to the shallow rantings of a wanna-be."

"There," proclaims Giles with an air of self-righteous vindication, "I told you that you could do better."

As Willow threatens to move closer and do bodily harm, Giles plugs his nose and waves her frantically away. "I may sit in my own stench 40 years from now, but it seems to me that's 40 years better than you're doing, stinky. I believe that puts me ahead." And with that parting sally, he exits the room with swift dignity.

Pal comments admiringly, "I may be a hundred million, Giles. But you're number one."

*

Pal materializes at the feet of a shiny pink Willow. She and Buffy sit in the college cafeteria with various lunch props before them. A worried furrow plays between Willow's eyebrows. "I haven't seen Pal in three days! Do you think he's left me?" Her lower lip quivers with chin reverberation harmony.

"Man, I love eavesdropping," Pal gloats.

Buffy places a sympathetic hand on Willow's, "Please, stop worrying. You know he loves you. He purrs at thunderous volume whenever you're around." Buffy pauses, feeling awkward. "Does this strike you as a strange conversation?"

Willow, not seeing Buffy's point, asks, "What if he's been hurt? Or, or…" Willow can't complete the sentence as her voice fails her. She mentions, "He was badly beaten when I found him in that alley."

Buffy flicks a doubtful look Willow's way, "Still wondering about that. You know- seeing as how he makes grown demons wet their pants with fear." Buffy's many demon encounters flash through her mind. "When they wear pants. My point is- he's fine. And, he hasn't left you." Buffy waves her hand negligently. "He's probably just having a sordid affair with some female of feline body type."

Pal sighs with wistful curiousity and yowls, "Sordid? Nothing I do is sordid."

A guy in the cafeteria's uniform approaches the table where Willow and Buffy are seated.

Pal proclaims, "I am not capable of sordidity."

The worker points down at the slightly miffed Pal, "Is that your cat?" he asks.

Surprised, Willow follows the direction of his finger. "Pal!" she shouts gladly.

"He is one major health violation," the polyester clad man tries to gain their attention. "Get him out of here before I make a sandwich out of him!"

"Pal!" Willow exclaims, "I missed you so much."

"I might as well be talking to the furniture," the guy mumbles.

Willow picks up Pal and commences smooching his smiling face. "It's good to be appreciated as I ought," purrs Pal.

"Where have you been?" Willow asks rhetorically.

Pal informs her, "I went to that alternate dimension where your diet is as restricted as your sun frolicking."

"I've been worried sick," Willow scolds as she carries him out of the cafeteria. Buffy trails along behind them, trying to juggle their lunch.

Pal continues, "It's very interesting there. Never a dull moment. I rather like getting to know your darker side." He snuggles into Willow's neck. "But all in all, I'd rather be cuddled and pet than chased for dinner." Pal sniffs. "Execrable eating habits your double has. But yes, it was fun; fangy teeth munching on tender kitty parts aside."

Willow heads for her room. Once there, Pal stretches out his body in Willow's lap. He goes on with his story. "Yeah, Giles got you good." He snickers remembering. "You were standing there like a lot sheep, mouth hanging open." Pal allows, "But you didn't let his total victory in intellectual battle go unanswered…"

*

"Oh, Giles," Willow calls silkily.

Giles looks up. Willow throws her soiled clothes at Giles. They drape themselves over his face and chest. He screams like a ninny and tries frantically to get them off. A stray button hooks on one of his nostrils as he pulls, forcing the nasal passage wide to better inhale the noxious fumes. Giles glasses are flung off in his wrestling match with the leather. Once the outfit is finally pinned, Giles gazes at the fallen glasses forlornly. He uses two fingers to gingerly snatch them from the refuse. Plucking a kerchief from his pocket, Giles attacks the glasses with obsessive zeal. He places them on his nose just in time to see Willow's naked backside saunter towards a chair. Giles' eyes glaze over and he chokes on some sudden spit.

Buffy walks in and surveys the scene. "Am I interrupting something?"

Giles gathers himself up enough to look indignant. "Certainly not!" Carefully not looking toward Willow, he gestures in Willow's general direction, asking Buffy, "Do you have anything she can wear?"

Buffy shakes her head in the negative, motioning to her apparel. "I asked my ex-Watcher to ship my clothes to me. For now, though, what you see is what I got."

"I like that jacket," mentions Willow, eyeing the black leather lasciviously.

Buffy warns her off with narrowed eyes, "In your dreams. This is the only clean item of clothing I have left."

Willow asks with interest, "You mean under that jacket you're wearing…"

"What my mommy gave me," Buffy confirms, holding her jacket belt with maximum territorial fervor.

Oz walks in and sees Willow lounging in all her glory. He blinks, "Whoa." Oz's eyes pause to linger on her bare flesh against his will.

Willow lifts an unconcerned brow, "Seen enough?"

Oz gulps dryly, "Ask me again in a minute."

Willow swallows back a small smile.

Oz forces himself to offer, "I have some clothes you can borrow."

Willow views his ensemble with eyes of tragedy, crying, "Is there a God?"

Giles looks at the ruined leather strewn about him. "I would say that the justice inherent in this situation proves it beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Buffy frowns, "Hey, that cat pissed on me, too, y'know."

Giles points innocent eyeballs ceiling-ward. He hums, "Not saying a word."

Buffy gives Giles the evil eye.

Oz clears his throat, "Clothes for two, then." He sends expectant vibes Buffy's way.

"Hope all you want, Hairy Garcia. The sight of my naked body is as secret as my identity," Buffy says coldly.

"If you're trying to _dash_ my hopes," Oz points out ironically, "you're not doing a very good job, Buffy Summers."

"Just bring me some clothes," Buffy grits out.

"You can't blame a guy for appreciating the finer things," Oz soothes, staring at Willow and glancing at the leather framed 'v' of Buffy's visible cleavage.

"Yes," Buffy glares with eyes hard as steel, "I. Can."

Oz shrugs easily. His eyes linger on Willow as his free hand gestures toward the door. "I'll just get some clothes now."

Willow leans back in Giles' armchair, one bare leg swinging. "Hurry back," she encourages throatily.

"No question," Oz admits as he backs out the door and dashes off.

Buffy comments after he's gone, "He could at least have offered you his shirt."

Willow says smugly, "Yes. He could have."

"Boy's not an idiot," Pal grins. He sighs, "Ah well, time to visit Sunnydale # 1."

*

After recounting the tale of Willow's undead clone, Pal falls asleep in Willow's arms, purring with the sweet sleep of the deemed.

*

Pal watches from a rooftop as Toothless approaches an old warehouse. "A being's actions are so much more interesting if they don't know they're being watched," Pal observes.

Toothless eyes the site of his last hope. Humans, generally dressed in dark colors, walk in the entrance of a building envious of crack houses. He'd heard of this place- where humans seeking a thrill come to get bit by vampires. Maybe one would be willing to open a vein form him.

Just inside the door, Toothless is stopped by a vampire in ridiculous eighteenth century costume. "There's a twenty dollar cover," he announces.

Toothless gulps, 'Who'd have thought you'd have to pay to walk into a condemned building?' He frantically searches his pockets for the money. Toothless can hardly believe he has any pride left to _feel_ embarrassed as he painstakingly counts out twenty dollars in small bills and coins. He's a dime shy. Grabbing what's there, the door vampire waves him in impatiently. "Next time, paper money only or you're out," he warns.

Toothless nods miserably. Where's he going to get twenty dollars on a regular basis? Hunger overcomes despair instantly as the scent of blood reaches his nostrils. His face sprouts demon features. He hears excited whispers from two thrill-seekers lounging on a warped, three-legged couch. Putting on his best menacing saunter, Toothless stalks toward them.

They stare at him excitedly, nervously. Delicious fear wafts at Toothless from their skin. Pal shakes his head in disbelief, "Humans are the strangest creatures."

"Do any of you have a knife?" Toothless asks.

They shake their heads in the negative and the girl thrill-seeker brings out a stake. Nearby vamps stiffen with hostility. Toothless, to whom permanent death would be a blessing, merely smiles with closed lips. "That'll hurt a lot more than a knife," he mentions.

The boy asks in disbelief, "You want us to cut ourselves? No way. My friend here likes to have her neck bitten."

"So bite her neck," Toothless shrugs.

The guy explains, "We're not involved," he glances at the girl's neck, intrigued in spite of himself. "Wait, why can't you bite her neck?"

Toothless had been so hoping not to go into this. "I have this curse," he begins.

"A curse?" the boy interrupts, "You're the vampire the gypsies cursed with a soul!" He leans back into the couch, amazed. "I can't believe you actually exist."

Toothless decides not to correct his misapprehension. A vampire with a soul is an abomination, but a vampire with no teeth is a joke. He'd rather be abominable.

"You help people," the young man declares.

Toothless stiffens thinking, 'a vampire has to draw the line somewhere'. He mumbles, "Um."

"This is so great. My mom needs help," he enthuses.

Toothless' eyes bleed yellow, "I don't…"

"I'll pay you," he offers, holding up a wrist and grabbing the girl's stake. "Half a pint now, half a pint after you help my mom."

On the other hand, beggars can't be choosers. "Half a pint from you and the girl now. Half a pint later," Toothless bargains.

Pal chuckles in his whiskers, "Is he even going to ask what the mom needs?"

The young man turns to his companion, "Please, Deirdre?"

The girl sighs, "Fine. But you owe me."

"You want me to bite your neck?" the boy asks with a practiced leer.

Toothless rolls his eyes. The depths to which his curse had sunk him are sickening. When could he just die already?

*

Pal travels to Sunnydale#2. He feels like visiting around a wee bit. He checks in on Riley Finn.

Forrest rags, "C'mon, Riley, all work and no play make Finn a dull cyborg."

Riley grits his teeth, "Don't call me that."

"So you've got a few metal parts. It's not like you're enslaved to a collective or anything. Join us at the Bronze. It's their grand vampire-free re-opening."

Riley grunts, "Recall for me, if you will, what happened the last time I went clubbing with the gang."

Forrest chuckles dismissively, "So you hooked up with a succubus. It could've happened to any one of us."

"It happened to me," Riley growls.

"It all ended up peachy," Forrest remembers cheerily, "When she tried to drain your energy at your happy moment, she ended up with more power than she could handle."

"I had fried succubus _less_ than inches from me," Riley stresses. The image forever burnt into his memory flashes before him. "And you know why I ended up with her?"

"Cause she was hot?" Forrest guesses randomly.

"Because she was the only female who had indicated any sexual interest in me in months." He gestures to his face. "No girl wants to be intimate with someone who looks like a patchwork Terminator." Riley's whole upper face is marred. One eye is barely visible through the scar tissue and the other gleams metallic. A red beam reminiscent of the famous Schwarzenegger cyborg shines from the titanium half-mask where his right eye used to be.

"Man, we've got soldiers _much_ worse messed up than you." Forrest points out. "You should be grateful the rest of you is working at peak efficiency."

"As a soldier I am grateful," Riley allows, "Given a choice, I would rather be able to fight than have a one-night stand. But there's no use in me going clubbing. I can't dance, the women won't talk to me and I can't afford to get drunk when I might need to fight at a moment's notice."

"What you need to do is relax a little," Forrest insists. "The girls love us soldier types. I have a hard time believing the fillies shy from a little metal. I think you're imagining things."

Riley turns from him sadly. "It's the eyes, Forrest. The windows to the soul. Looking at machine parts instead kind of kills a lady's romantic interest."

Forrest barks, "I don't care!"

"What?" Riley responds dumbly.

"You're coming. A celebration of the devampirization of the Bronze. It's a moral victory for our side and you are going to be there," Forrest proclaims.

"But I don't wanna!" whines Riley.

CHAPTER SIX

Willow spies some nicely filled jeans playing wall-flower. "Well," she says to herself, "that just won't do." Willow writhes her way over in time to the music.

Riley sees her eyes on him. He looks behind himself, disconcerted.

Willow nods and points to Riley, nodding, "You're going to dance with me."

Riley shakes his head negative, "I can't dance."

Willow drags him by the hand onto the dance floor. "I don't care if you look stupid," she says against his protests, "I'll still look good."

Riley looks her over and can't deny it. He asks warily, "You're not a succubus by any chance, are you?"

Willow smiles at his little boy tone, "I'll take that as a compliment. But, alas no. I'm a vampire." She dances unconcernedly as Riley goes for the stake in his sleeve. Willow puts a restraining hand on his while boogeying around. "Keep the wood tucked, handsome," she winks, "This world has known only two evil-free vampires and I'm the second."

Riley doesn't believe her for a micro-second, but tucks the stake away and plays along, "And the first?"

"Is dead," says Willow matter of factly.

Riley is verbally stunted by her strange bluntness.

"My point is," Willow continues, "You're safe with me." She adds with a sly lip quirk, "Well, as safe as you want to be."

Buffy searches for Willow with exasperation. She's been porting two drinks for ages when she spots Willow chatting up a Y gender. Buffy's eyes linger on Willow's target. Her eyebrows shoot up. "Wait a minute!" Buffy realizes aloud, "I'd know those shoulders and that a…" There's an embarrassed pause. "I'd know those shoulders anywhere," she concludes. She walks up behind them, greeting, "Riley Finn."

Riley whips around, startled, "Do I know you?"

Buffy takes him in visually, acknowledging, "Once upon an alternate dimension."

Willow pouts at being ignored, "Hey, Buffy. He's yours?"

Buffy hands Willow her drink, saying dryly, "He's his own."

Riley looks between the two of them, "You two know each other?" he lowers his voice, "Are you a vampire, too?"

"Hardly," Buffy half-grins at the irony of his question. Buffy finally notices his facial additions. "Damn, Riley." Buffy looks him straight in the eyes with total camaraderie, joking, "Should I see the other guy?"

Riley feels too off balance to be offended or low self-esteemy. He says, "Huh?"

Forrest notices Riley with two beauties and strides forward eagerly. He catches the remainder of the conversation.

Buffy helps Riley out with, "You know. I tell you, 'damn, you look awful' and you say…"

"You should see the other guy." Riley finishes with a smile. "It wasn't pretty," Riley shakes his head solemnly. "The stuff of nightmares."

"What you did to it or what it looked like on any given day?" Buffy inquires morbidly.

"Yeah," Riley answers to both questions. He adds, "Plus with the decay…"

"Killed it dead, huh?" Buffy hypothesizes.

"Pretty much," Riley admits.

"Now that's what I like to hear," Buffy applauds.

Riley grins, strangely happy.

Forrest interrupts by clapping Riley on his shoulder, "There should be dancing," he proclaims.

"That's what I thought," agrees Willow pursing lips in remembered disappointment. "But they're too busy exchanging pheromones to feel the rhythm."

Forrest laugh, "Pheromones? Sounds promising."

Riley blushes, warning, "Forrest…"

Forrest chuckles, "Oh, don't mind me." He reaches for Willow. "Red and I are going to tear up the floor."

Riley mentions with a slight tone of smugness, "Before you get too excited, you should know that she's a vampire."

Forrest's face falls.

"Don't hold that against me," Willow coos. "I'm reformed." She draws a fingertip up Forrest's arm. "Mostly."

Buffy waves a hand without taking her eyes from Riley. "She's fine. I'll vouch for her."

Forrest asks ironically, "And you are."

"Tell them, Willow," Buffy suggests with humour.

Willow graciously assents, "Buffy's the reason the Hellmouth is sealed back up. She told us how to close it."

Buffy corrects, "You killed the Master."

"Only because I got there before Buffy," Willow demurs modestly.

"Either way," Buffy adds, skirting the issue that it was in fact her double that saved the world, "We've both dusted our share."

Riley and Forrest stand there feeling a little bit small. They are usually the heroes in a given situation. Now they are the benefactees of the rescue scenario. The social etiquette of this moment is all wrong and different. Neither knows what to do. Willow rescues them from their surreality.

"So how about that dance?" Willow reminds Forrest. Forrest numbly nods and they wander to the center of the dance floor.

Buffy studies Riley. He's colder than the Riley she'd met; harder. Like her, this alternate world had given him a different personality. Which is good, really. Trusting souls die in this dimension. But his soul, like hers, is the same as his double's. So Buffy knows from her experience with Riley on that other world that he is someone to count on. Buffy remembers human Willow's advice –'what are you fighting _for_?' as well as Riley's own echo of similar words to sway Giles in an argument on her behalf. Maybe she should take a chance on letting him be someone she can get close to. Still, friends are one thing, a boyfriend something else. A heart is the body part most easily broken and the hardest to mend.

Riley interrupts Buffy's mental journey of indecision. "So, how do you know my name, really? I'm _very_ sure we haven't met before."

"I guess you could say that I had a dream of sorts," answers Buffy vaguely. "A dream of what the world would have been like if I'd moved to Sunnydale instead of Ohio. A world where the Hellmouth never opened because I was here to stop it."

"A dream where the Hellmouth stays closed," Riley thinks aloud. "That's how you knew how to seal the Hellmouth?"

Buffy nods.

"That's not a dream," Riley points out. "That's a vision."

Buffy squirms, "I _avoid_ that word. It is too reminiscent of delusions of grandeur and crazed religious nuts."

"So you're an oracle," concludes Riley.

Buffy displays a horror face. "No! I just occasionally dream about events eminently pertinent to situations I might find myself in."

"So you're psychic," Riley tries to find the correct label for his mental comfort.

Buffy clicks her voice no-ish. "I have no control over it."

Riley finally decides not to argue semantics. "But I was in this dream?" Buffy nods assent. Riley continues, "Called by name?"

"There were even adjectives involved," Buffy nods sagely.

"That's some dream," Riley smiles. He pauses thoughtfully, "Maybe you should meet the head of our operation. She could…"

"Professor Walsh?" Buffy asks incredulously, "And become slaughtered for cyborg demon parts? No thank you."

Riley's whole body freezes with suspicion. "You didn't get that from a dream," he snaps. "I didn't even know about project 314 until they used that research to build me a cyber-eye." He grabs her arm, declaring, "You are now considered a threat to national security. You're coming with me."

Graham sees Riley's face and walks over to investigate.

Buffy can't help but laugh with amusement as she easily twists her arm from his grasp. "Because government security for the Initiative is so lax, it's a greater possibility that I could hack into secret files than have a semi-prophetic dream."

Riley pauses, confused.

"By the way," Buffy adds. "314? Bad idea. Because once the human donors are dead and their souls gone, there's nothing to prevent their demony evil parts from controlling the creatures' actions."

Riley is only partially relieved as he sighs, "So you don't know everything. After the demons started rampaging, they accelerated 314 to try to counter the problem." Riley grimaces, "We already know it doesn't work." He looks at Buffy thoughtfully, "A human soul would have made the difference?"

"Chopping them up and keeping them alive? Yup. Assuming the person is a decent one. They have to want to fight the evil within. Like Willow." They both glance toward Willow and Forrest on the dance floor. Willow is dancing in a very suggestive manner with the soldier; who's not minding at all. Buffy winces, "Mostly she fights her evil side."

Graham, whose been listening a discreet distance away, grins.

"Willow still has her soul?" Riley asks, confused. "A vampire with a soul?"

"We magicked it back into her," Buffy explains matter-of-factly. "We needed an insider to take down the Master. We knew she was a great person pre-vamp, so we re-ensouled her."

"We who?" asks Riley, still suspicious.

Buffy is not about to go into the long, unbearable tale of dimension hopping that is the whole truth and says instead, "Some of us good guys."

"How many?" Riley insists.

Buffy counts in her head. "Five, well, six if you include the spell caster. She wasn't in on the actual killing of the Master to seal the Hellmouth, though."

Riley shakes his head in complete lack of belief. "Five of you against at least 200 vamps? Impossible. Ensouled vampire or not."

Graham looks at slowtop Riley and shakes an amused head, "Another male brain malfunction in light of a pretty face."

Buffy beats Graham to the punchline. "I would have figured that a professional demon hunter like yourself would have figured it out by now," she says with mild amusement.

"What?"

"I'm the Slayer."

Riley says, "Oh."

*

Buffy stares at the big, dumb lug and can't help a rush of affection. He's so adorable when he's unsure of himself. She wonders if he kisses with the same enthusiasm his double displayed.

Riley notices Buffy staring at his lips and wonders if something green is hanging from them. He licks his mouth carefully and sees her face soften.

"The eyes really don't bother you, do they?" Riley notices suddenly, lips forgotten.

Buffy jerks her mind from its pleasant segue. She laughs, "You know the kinds of things I have to look at every day. Your eyes are interesting, not freaksome. Besides, my scars are bigger than your scars," she boasts.

Riley scoffs, "That white line on your lip is bigger than this?" He gestures to his face.

"Hey I ducked my demon attacker and took the bulk of my scars elsewhere." Buffy taunts. "If you were so worried about keeping your pretty face, you should have done the same."

"Exactly where are these alleged scars?" Riley asks with interest.

"Well, in the interest of backing up my wager, I probably should arrange a private viewing," Buffy announces. "My body is one scar after another and it wouldn't do to strip and scare the civilians."

"Um," Riley stammers. He decides to cling to sanity and change the subject. "Professor Walsh really must meet you."

"Did I forget tell you she tried to kill me when I wouldn't fit into her little controllable niche?" Buffy points a finger at him.

Riley frowns, "Just how long did this dream last?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks!" Riley blurts, "Were you in some kind of coma?"

"Subjective time," Buffy clarifies. "This world didn't go Slayerless for even a second."

"But you knew you were dreaming?"

Buffy gives the truth without thinking, "No, at first I thought I'd died and gone to heaven."

Riley laughs and then sees her serious expression, "You're serious?" Buffy nods. Riley questions, "What made you think that?"

To his surprise, Buffy blushes, "Um."

"Okay," Riley leans toward her. "That's a story I want to hear." Graham nods agreement from his eavesdropping spot.

Buffy forces her aplomb to recover. She says calmly, "Maybe someday."

Riley decides to have mercy on her. He inadvertently fails when he asks, "You knew who I was because of this dream?" At Buffy's nod he continues, "What was I doing in this dream?"

Buffy blushes even redder and hides her face by taking a swig of her warm pop.

Riley grins as he puts two and two together. "Your dream didn't start out with prophetic warnings of evil to come, did it?"

"Not exactly," Buffy accedes reluctantly.

Riley pushes, "You thought you were in heaven."

Buffy shrugs, her hand very busy twirling a stake. "She's good," Graham murmurs, mesmerized by the motion as Buffy explains, "It seemed like a very nice place at first. With nice people."

"And was I one of the nice people?" Riley inquires slyly.

Buffy throws him warning glare of the 'don't push me' variety. "Maybe."

Riley teases, "Heaven, hmm? Was I that good?"

Buffy reminisces wistfully, "I was sort of floating over my dream body at the time. I never got to actually…" She stops and glares at Riley again. "Stop asking me ques-…" Her words fade away at the look on his face.

Riley gazes at her with wonder. The vampire Slayer has a soft side. Slowly, he takes her non-stake wielding hand and pulls her to him. He soothes, "It seems a terrible shame to be that close to heaven and not touch it." He brings Buffy's hand up to his face. Their bodies lean into one another as Buffy smooths her fingers over Riley's mouth. She can't seem to back away. Riley can feel her hand trembling. He leans forward and whispers in her ear, "When you're ready for a little bit of heaven, you let me know." He gives her the tenderest of kisses and backs off, giving her some space.

Buffy ducks her head to hide sudden tears. The harsh reality of this world hasn't burned the gentleman out of Riley. That fact gives her more hope for the future than she's had in a long time. This Riley is definitely harder, more cynical than the other, but the fact that he could still be so sweet makes Buffy believe in the existence of happy endings again. Buffy let's Riley see her vulnerable, leaky eyes as she says, "A little bit of heaven please." She raises her face for a kiss.

Riley's heart begins to thunder within him as he hugs her to him. As he lowers his lips, Buffy whimpers, "Just a little bit, mind you. A girl; even the Slayer; can only take so much."

The kiss is everything she had dreamed it could be. And more. Buffy could never have imagined how safe and cared for she feels. She could never have imagined Riley's gentle strength and control. Her heart tumbles. She gazes into his eyes as their lips part in a slow unclinging. "I think that was too much," Buffy complains.

"No, Slayer," Pal contradicts with a supremely fangy smile. "I think it's just enough." He pats himself on the back, purring, "My work here is done." He glances over at Willow. "Well, a djinn's work is never really done. But for now…"

Pal uses a claw to pull aside a little space-time fabric and slinks home.

232


End file.
